


Five Times Rafael Tried to Deny His Feelings (and One Time He Made Dinner)

by Kaye_21



Series: How Sonny and Rafael Got Their Groove Back [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Denial, Domestic Fluff, Feelings, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild Smut, Pining, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:48:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4020400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaye_21/pseuds/Kaye_21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion piece/sequel to "I'll Be Home for Dinner". </p><p>The first five times are the same story, as seen from Barba's very different perspective. </p><p>The sixth time is what happens next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Five Times

**I.** **Homework**

Rafael was in a hurry. He was supposed to drop off some files for Liv at the precinct and he hadn’t been able to get his assistant to do it – something about a ‘personal life’, a concept that was unfamiliar to Rafael – and it was already 8pm and he still had to go back to his office and go through a deposition because he had to be in court early the next morning and… oh  _great,_ there was Carisi. 

The rest of the squad was apparently in Chicago, working on a case that Rafael didn’t need to worry about yet, and it seemed that they had left Carisi behind. Naturally. The detective was slouching over his desk, papers and even a few textbooks scattered around him and, what, did he think this was study hall?

Rafael had to stop himself there, or else he’d have to acknowledge that it probably hadn’t been that long since the last time Carisi had actually been in study hall. He was so damn young, and he looked even younger without that moustache. Rafael almost wished Carisi had never shaved.

Almost. Because Carisi didn’t just look younger; he looked better. Disturbingly so. Not that Rafael had minded the moustache, not really. Carisi had pulled it off, in a weird way; it had been kind of cute, even – and Rafael had to stop himself again.

He made sure to sneer at Carisi as he approached the cluttered desk, and he used his most dismissive tone as he asked the detective to hand over the files to Benson as soon as she returned.

Carisi just gave a noncommittal reply, something like “Sure,” barely even looking up at Rafael as he spoke.

Wait a minute; that wasn’t how their little game went. Rafael would say something bordering on offensive, and Carisi would either scoff and ignore him, or he’d be a smart-ass and say something unexpectedly funny. A bored-sounding ‘sure’ was not going to cut it; Carisi would have to do a lot better than that.

Fortunately, Rafael wasn’t about to give up so easily; perhaps his tone was too subtle to sufficiently goad Carisi, so he went for a direct jab: “Are you sure you can handle that, Carisi? Aren’t you too busy with your homework?” There. Surely that would do the trick.

Carisi did look up this time, at least, but he remained expressionless as he said, “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

Rafael was having trouble processing Carisi’s reaction, or lack thereof. And he was having even more trouble processing his own reaction; he felt… disappointed? Since when had Carisi’s little retorts become something Rafael actively sought out?

Granted, Rafael did enjoy trying to get a rise out of the detective, mostly because he was easy to rile up, but… wait another minute; Carisi  _was_ easy. Always had been. Until that very evening. What had changed?

Rafael, to his horror, became conscious of the fact he was wasting minutes of his precious time, minutes that he didn’t have, standing awkwardly over Carisi’s desk, wondering what was wrong, just waiting for the detective to say something, feeling–

“What is it counselor? Wanna see my report card?” Carisi’s voice cut through his thoughts before Rafael could put a name to his feelings. Which was probably a good thing.

It was a good thing because, somehow, that one little snarky comeback had managed to instantly put a smile – or, OK, a smirk – back on Rafael’s lips.

Rafael chose not to focus on that realization and, instead, responded in kind: “No, but if you need any help with your science project call my office, I’m sure I can pencil you in.”

Carisi did scoff this time, and he also threw out a deliciously snippy “Goodnight counselor,” before he practically turned his back on Rafael, pretending that he was busy with his textbooks. Yeah right.

As Rafael left the precinct, smirk still on his face, all he could think of was ‘mission accomplished’. Not that he would ever admit it, but those brief and usually rude exchanges he shared with Carisi had, at some point, become a fun part of his routine.

Rafael didn’t know what had come over Carisi that evening, why he was less eager to participate in their back-and-forth; but, in the end, Rafael had gotten the reaction he’d been after. 

Not that… Rafael hadn’t really  _been after_ a reaction… Had he? Anyway, he’d had a long day, and he still had a long night ahead of him, and all Rafael knew for sure was that he was suddenly in a far better mood.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

** II. Cannoli **

Carisi was late. Only by about ten minutes, but still; it was the principle of the thing. The detective was supposed to brief him on a case and Rafael was actually looking forward to spending some one-on-one time with him.

It had been a few weeks since their little chat, and it had also been a few weeks since Carisi had last uttered an offbeat remark, legal or otherwise.

Rafael couldn’t deny that he was curious. Carisi was a loudmouth; it wasn’t like him to just sit in a corner and be quiet. Up until a few weeks earlier, you couldn’t miss Carisi if you tried – which Rafael knew from personal experience.

Lately, however, it was like the detective wasn’t even there. Half the time Rafael spent at the precinct, he wasn’t even sure Carisi  _was_ there; only those long legs and his lips… um, his broad gesticulations still gave him away. 

Just as Rafael was about to have his secretary call Carisi and ask about the delay, he overheard the detective animatedly talking to her; it was clear from Carisi’s voice that he was all smiles, excited about something.

Rafael tried to eavesdrop, but all he caught was his own secretary thanking Carisi about something, maybe a compliment? She was also very clearly returning those smiles, if not the compliments, and was _that_ what Rafael was paying her for? To exchange pleasantries with cops?

A few seconds later there was a knock on Rafael’s door, and Carisi entered; he offhandedly apologized for being late but, tellingly, his face had lost all traces of a smile. If Rafael hadn’t heard him being all polite and lively and peppy mere moments earlier, he never would have known. That was… strange. Rafael found himself looking at Carisi, staring even, unsuccessfully trying to figure out what the problem was.

Carisi didn’t seem to notice, as he immediately pulled out the pertinent case files. He started breaking down the case, doing a pretty solid job actually; he had all his notes in order, the facts were neatly laid out, the paper trail was chronologically arranged and well presented. If only all cops were this organized. Rafael half-felt like Carisi was doing a student presentation at Fordham Law, though he refrained from making a sarcastic remark about that.

Just as Rafael was idly wondering about Carisi’s grades – and, wow, where had that come from? – the detective looked at him expectantly. Which must have meant that he had finished the briefing.

It was a good thing Rafael had already read up on the case, and it was also a good thing the case was pretty straight-forward. That was probably the reason Liv had sent Carisi to present it in the first place, perhaps underestimating him.

Rafael calmly returned Carisi’s expectant look. This was Carisi’s chance; they were alone. No one else was there, no other detectives to look at him the wrong way when he went into a criminal law diatribe. Except Carisi didn’t. He just kept staring back.

Things were getting awkward, so Rafael decided to just say something: “What, that’s it? No ideas? I don’t get to hear you telling me how to do my job? What happened to your always insightful legal opinions?”

Carisi seemed like he wasn’t in the mood to say much. Except to Rafael’s secretary, apparently. He just muttered, “No ideas counselor, it seems like you have everything under control.”

That was no fun. First Carisi resisted Rafael’s jabs, and now he didn’t want to give his non-expert opinions? What was happening? And, more importantly, why did Rafael feel so frustrated?

It was funny in retrospect, but initially Rafael had thought that Carisi was a show-off; that he was trying to flaunt his limited legal knowledge, that he thought he could maybe see something Rafael himself might miss.

It had, however, soon become apparent that Carisi was only looking for approval. He wanted to be right, and he wanted a pat on the head for it. Rafael, never one to dole out praise, still found that kind of endearing.

It was at that point that Rafael decided he wasn’t going to let Carisi leave, not without giving at least one somewhat accurate assessment of the case. Then, Rafael could semi-honestly say something trite like ‘good job’, and maybe then Carisi would stop looking so damn sad.

So Rafael insisted: “Detective, I’m sure you know I’ve always had things under control; that never seemed to stop you before. Come on, what are your thoughts? Don’t you want to know if you’re right?”

Carisi still didn’t seem to liven up. He just dejectedly said, “I thought I was  _seldom_ right,” and then he flat-out started pouting. 

Rafael was momentarily, or not so momentarily, distracted by Carisi’s plush lips – which, seriously, he was a grown man. Pouting? Really? – but he still managed to catch a glimpse of the old Carisi there. He had cared enough to remember, let alone repeat, one of Rafael’s favorite taunts.

Rafael chose to interpret that as a sign he should keep trying: “Well, don’t you want to know if today is one of those admittedly rare occasions?”

Carisi looked at him again. Rafael smiled almost involuntarily; Carisi had that effect on him. For some reason, which Rafael didn’t care to investigate at this juncture. After a few seconds, Carisi started talking, which oddly gave Rafael a sense akin to relief.

Carisi took the obvious approach; he focused on the emails of the suspect, which contained what amounted to a series of confessions, jam-packed with damning details.

But, if Rafael was going to give Carisi credit, he wanted something more; he knew Carisi was better than this – or at least he suspected it – so Rafael steered him in the right direction, pinpointing the main legal issue, the right to privacy.

Carisi finally started looking alive. He quickly pointed out a way in which the privacy argument could be circumvented; he cited a relevant clause in the suspect’s employment contract. Indeed, the incriminating emails had been sent via company accounts, using company computers. Frankly, Rafael was surprised Carisi had even read that contract. That was more than due diligence. That was kind of impressive.

So Rafael decided to prod Carisi a little more; he started nodding, ready to give out another hint, when Carisi came up with another solution all by himself: “OK, so we get one of the suspect’s colleagues, one of the recipients of the emails, to disclose the contents. Since the messages contain evidence of a criminal act there’s no protection of confidentiality.”

Huh. Night school was apparently paying off. Rafael couldn’t resist; this wasn’t just deserving of a half-assed compliment. This was a pretty solid legal analysis. So Rafael smiled a real smile, a smile Carisi had earned, and he honestly – a little too honestly – said, “Very good.”

Carisi got a little wide-eyed, probably in surprise, and then he just beamed. Rafael had to struggle to suppress thoughts like ‘cute’ and ‘sweet’ and ‘goddammit’.

Rafael then shook himself back to reality, stopped staring at a now fully grinning Carisi and said, not entirely without affection, “OK Detective, don’t let it get to your head, this is basic stuff.”

Carisi did not lose his grin. He did, however, get up and out the door; A baffled Rafael overheard him saying something to his secretary – seriously, what was going on there? – right before he came back, an open box of cannoli in his hands.

Rafael wondered if he was seeing things; “Excuse me Detective, are you offering me  _ pastries? _ Did you bring them with you on the off chance that I would be nice to you?”

Carisi laughed. He giggled, more accurately. Rafael didn’t even bother denying this one; Carisi’s laughter was adorable. The detective explained that the pastries were for the squad, and that he was celebrating because he had just found out that his sister was having a baby.

Well, that explained the tardiness, as well as the excited conversation with Rafael’s secretary. And it was a relief. Not just the secretary part – thought she’d never know how close she got to losing that upcoming raise. In truth, for a second there, Rafael had half-believed that Carisi was so starved for affection he went around handing pastries to near strangers.

But, as Rafael was reaching for the cannoli, he had a thought: “Wait a second, so you weren’t going to give  _ me  _ one?”

Carisi laughed again and had the nerve to say “Nope. But you earned it.”

Cocky bastard. Rafael was going to say something back, he really was, something like, ‘Leave the jokes to me, Carisi,’ except he was too busy noticing Carisi’s dimples.

Instead, Rafael settled for grabbing a cannoli and growling a far-too-fond “Get out of here, Detective.”

Carisi practically bounced off into the sunset.

A few minutes later, while Rafael was still enjoying his cannoli – and replaying the conversation in his mind – he realized something; in fact, it had been those damn dimples that made him think about it. Rafael hadn’t seen Carisi smile, let alone laugh, in over a month. Not that Rafael was counting… Or was he?

Anyway, and how about that cocky comment? Classic Carisi. The detective used to throw out those gems on a daily basis. Until, suddenly, he stopped.

Something was going on, and Rafael was going to get to the bottom of– scratch that; something was going on, and Rafael was going to figure it out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

** III. Bar  **

Rafael just wanted this day to end. The case had come so very close to getting bungled because the squad had ignored some early inconsistencies. Granted, Liv had privately taken responsibility for that; she had told Rafael that the case hit a little too close to home for her, which was more than understandable, so he couldn’t complain too much. Still, the past 24 hours had been very stressful.

Ultimately, it had only been through luck and, apparently, a few acute observations from Carisi, that the team had managed to identify and apprehend the suspect. Incidentally, Liv had also been the one to tell Rafael about Carisi’s contributions, casually stating that he was shaping up to be a decent detective. A few months earlier, Rafael would have been surprised to hear that; now, he thought it sounded about right.

It was strange but, over the past month, and after their little one-on-one session, Rafael had started looking at Carisi differently. He had gotten a chance to hear Carisi expand on some of his ideas, make legal observations at length instead of sprouting off fleeting comments; that had allowed Rafael to get a better read on Carisi, on his way of thinking.

In Rafael’s expert opinion, Carisi had proven to be more than just an inexperienced cop with indecently full lips; in fact, Carisi was also a promising law student… with indecently full lips. And he was doing well on the job, too? Using his knowledge to help solve a case? Rafael had gotten an irrational sense of pride when he had heard Liv’s praise for Carisi. ‘Good for him,’ he had thought.

Or, maybe, Rafael’s pride wasn’t that irrational. After that cannoli incident a month earlier – namely, after a close encounter with Carisi’s dimples, and after having an insult-free, normal, even pleasant conversation with him – Rafael had come to… not mind Carisi. To like him, even. A little. He wasn’t  _that_ bad once you got past the– 

Actually, Carisi wasn’t bad at all. He was kind of sweet. Long gone were the days when Rafael viewed him as someone who needed to be put in his place. It now seemed clear that Carisi was just a guy who was really trying, who was maybe having a hard time, and who could use some encouragement.

Rafael found himself wondering if Liv had bothered complimenting Carisi to his face. Maybe he could ask her; very casually, of course. Because it wasn’t like Rafael cared. Much.

Rafael didn’t care at all; which was why, later that night, he decided to drop by the precinct, hoping to talk to Liv. About… nothing specific. At any rate, Rafael was exhausted, but he was also feeling better now that the case was closed, and he figured he’d ask Liv out for a drink so they could unwind.

That didn’t quite explain why, as soon as he walked in, Rafael scanned the squad room for Carisi’s lanky form, but still. Before he even spotted Carisi, though, Rafael heard Rollins say something about ‘free drinks’. That was even better; a night out with the squad. Everybody was invited. Including Caris–

Except Carisi was still at his desk, hunched over a textbook, with a frown on his face. All the others had left, rushing through the doors, apart from Liv, who was still on the phone, and Carisi, who was just sitting there, no jacket on, in a pretty nice vest, actually, and in a nice striped shirt whose shape he had ruined by rolling up the sleeves, just like he always did – and now Rafael was losing focus.

The point was, Carisi didn’t look like he was coming. And he looked dejected. Which, as Rafael had noticed with some – very little, really – concern, was becoming the norm as of late. Rafael felt a surge of disappointment, but he refused to wonder what that meant.

A moment later, Carisi looked up at him and his frown seemed to turn upside down; Rafael refused to wonder what that meant as well. While he was at it, he also refused to wonder why he had started smiling back at Carisi as soon as their eyes had met. Rafael was just going with the flow. No point in dwelling.

Carisi watched him for a second and then quietly said, “I can’t make it, I still have homework to do.”

At first, Rafael thought that Carisi was purposely repeating yet another one of his taunts, but the sweet smile on the detective’s face refuted that notion. Rafael was getting ready to say something, when Liv finally wrapped up her call and motioned him over.

Carisi nodded at him, a goodbye, and Rafael decided that wasn’t enough. No; he was going to convince Carisi to come along, and he was going to talk to him, and he was going to figure out why Carisi looked so down all the time.

Rafael needed to improvise; so, he pulled out his phone, acting like he needed to make a call, and told Liv he’d be a few minutes. As she left, Rafael put his phone away and started walking toward Carisi’s desk.

The detective looked like he was trying to ignore him, for some reason, so Rafael decided to make that impossible; he sat on Carisi’s desk, inches away from him, and waited for him to say something.

Carisi eventually – and curtly – said, “Can I help you counselor?” but it was what he didn’t say that piqued Rafael’s interest.

Carisi was very clearly flustered by Rafael’s proximity; his usually languid movements had gotten stilted, he seemed to be subconsciously fondling the pages of his textbook, and he was biting his lips. He had also moved away a tiny bit, but his eyes were still locked on Rafael’s.

That… was new. Still, Rafael continued on his path of denial and didn’t dwell on it; he simply reached over – and he could have sworn Carisi flinched – and tilted the cover of the textbook, wanting to see just what the detective was studying so intently.

He was surprised to see a pretty advanced course; was Carisi that far along in his studies? That would explain a lot. Rafael had to satisfy his curiosity, so he asked Carisi about it.

The detective confirmed Rafael’s thoughts with a pleased little smile; he was practically about to graduate. And there was that irrational sense of pride again. Rafael seriously needed a drink. But not without Carisi.

Rafael was done being subtle; he said something inane, something like ‘a night out couldn’t hurt’ – the awkwardness of the moment rubbing off on him, no doubt – and just grabbed Carisi by the forearm.

That damn forearm that was always distracting Rafael because Carisi always had his sleeves rolled up, and it would be a shame if he ruined all his shirts after he had clearly bothered to upgrade his wardrobe, and what kind of guy couldn’t keep his sleeves down like a grown up, anyway, and, wow, Carisi’s skin was soft.

Even softer than his skin, though, were his eyes; he watched, doe-eyed, as Rafael pulled him up, saying, “Come on Carisi, today was a good day. You deserve to celebrate it too.”

The detective didn’t look like he had a choice; he got up, put his coat on and started walking. That had been easy. If Rafael had known that all it took to sway Carisi was a touch, he… never would have touched him. Because, as it turned out, Carisi wasn’t the only one affected by the proximity. This was not good.

Rafael was starting to reconsider that drink, and certainly the conversation he intended to have with Carisi; maybe that discussion needed to happen in a more neutral setting, somewhere with less alcohol and better lighting.

By the time they got to the bar, Rafael had almost decided to scrap the whole thing; but then Carisi literally leapt ahead and stood there, sweetly smiling and holding the door open for him and, dammit, Rafael smiled back.

The next couple of hours went by very slowly. Rafael was sitting with Liv and Fin, but he kept glancing at Carisi; the detective was sitting and laughing with Rollins and Amaro, in a way that made Rafael think that maybe there was nothing to worry about. Carisi seemed to be getting along with them just fine.

But then Rafael would remember how he literally had to drag Carisi by the hand to get him to come along, and how it had been about 2 months since he’d last seen Carisi on one of these outings. Something had to be done. And, since no one else cared enough to do it, the duty fell on Rafael. Or something.

Finally, after what seemed like days, Liv and Fin were the first to take off. Rafael got ready to join the remaining group on the other table, maybe sidle up to Carisi if he could manage it, but Carisi suddenly stood up. Was he leaving? So early? No no – Oh. He was going to the bar. OK. Rafael could work with that.

And so he did; after saying his goodnights to Amaro and Rollins – and did those two think they were fooling anyone? – Rafael walked up to Carisi.

The detective smiled and sweetly offered him a seat – and, seriously, Rafael’s brain needed to stop attaching the word ‘sweet’ to everything Carisi did. Like, there he sat, sweetly downing his beer. No.

Rafael blocked out most of their small talk, and chose to employ a now tried and true method; he took Carisi by the forearm – because, of course, his sleeves were rolled up again – and pulled him toward a corner booth, for privacy.

It appeared that the alcohol had made the detective much more pliant; Rafael had no trouble getting him to sit down, and he even got Carisi to scoot over with just a look.

Questions like ‘why did Rafael even want Carisi to scoot over?’ and ‘why did Rafael sit so close to Carisi?’ and ‘why were Carisi’s legs so long?’ were better left unanswered.

Rafael would have to be careful; the alcohol was getting to him too, and he did not want to spook poor Carisi with any type of overture. They were simply going to have a cordial yet professional conversation. While sitting very closely. That was all.

Rafael decided to open with a casual observation; he mentioned that Carisi had been absent from most of the squad’s group outings for some time. Carisi gave a, frankly, half-assed reply about his studies and how he was too busy to have fun.

Rafael didn’t buy it for a second. This had nothing to do with being ‘busy’. Carisi had been looking increasingly unhappy in the past few months.

So, Rafael insisted: “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Now, I’ve never been your biggest fan, Carisi, but you’re a promising detective. And yet lately you appear less present, less focused. Are your studies distracting you? Are you reconsidering your career? You seem to be isolating yourself from the rest of the squad.”

There. Rafael had made sure to flatter Carisi a little – though, as always with him, every compliment came with a barb – hoping the praise would bamboozle the detective into giving a straight answer.

Unexpectedly, that didn’t work. Carisi looked surprised, then happy, then disappointed, and then resigned. Rafael was getting whiplash, and he was also getting confused.

Carisi persuasively denied that he was eyeing a career change, even after Rafael prodded him further with faux indignation, asking if he had the gall to want to become a prosecutor. The detective even tried to make a few jokes, but it was clear that something was bothering him.

Even clearer was the fact that Carisi had only focused on one aspect of Rafael’s question; he was happy to talk about his studies and his commitment to being a cop, but he did not at all comment on his isolation from the other detectives. This only confirmed Rafael’s suspicions that there was a problem.

Rafael chose to attack the issue head-on: “OK, so you’re not looking to change careers. Which is good for your would-be clients” – and there it was, a sweet sco… a scoff – “but there has to be something else. It’s not just nights out. It’s on the job, too. You’ve been quieter. Which, considering how loud you were, is not necessarily a bad thing, but still. You barely seem to speak anymore.”

Carisi deflated right before Rafael’s eyes. He looked sad. So damn sad. Rafael almost wished he had never said anything, if only that would wipe the sadness off Carisi’s face. And then Rafael wished his brain would stop being so sappy.

Right as Rafael was debating whether or not he should say something to cheer up Carisi, or if he should maybe try to joke his way out of the entire conversation, the detective looked up. Rafael tried to look back at him in an encouraging way and waited.

Carisi took a breath – more of a deep sigh, actually – and finally spoke: “Look, I don’t mean to mope, but you said it yourself. You’re not my biggest fan. And neither is anybody else. That can get to a guy, you know? So what if I miss a night out, or three? Nobody’s gonna miss me. And what if I keep my comments to myself when we’re working a case? I still do my part, I contribute when I have something solid, and my instincts are still good. I just stopped trying to get you guys to like me.”

Rafael was surprised. He hadn’t really pegged Carisi for the self-pitying type; the detective had always seemed cocky and brash and confident, barring these last couple of months. Rafael imagined the alcohol probably had something to do with the extreme magnitude of Carisi’s pout in that moment, but still; the underlying sentiment was unmistakably genuine. Carisi felt rejected.

It was strangely upsetting to see Carisi so miserable. Rafael felt the simultaneous need to hug him and to slap him upside the head, if that would help him snap out of it. But Rafael settled for something more conventional; he tried to convince Carisi that people liked him. Which was at least partially true. If by ‘people’ he meant ‘a cranky ADA’.

Carisi didn’t seem to buy it, and he kept putting himself down, saying how terrible he was and how he’d never be Manhattan SVU material and, wow; even his sulking was sweet. Rafael now had the simultaneous urge to roll his eyes and to shut Carisi up with a kiss right on his pouty lips. Which he resolutely did not do, though it took some effort.

Instead, Rafael kept trying to reassure Carisi that he was actually a good detective, though he decided not to mention Liv’s positive evaluation, if only because he didn’t want Carisi to think people were talking about him behind his back.

Still, there was no reason Rafael couldn’t offer up some praise directly; talking over Carisi’s protests to the contrary, he said: “…you are good at your job. You were right about this case, weren’t you? You pointed out the issues from the start; the others may be more experienced but you do have good instincts and you also have legal knowledge that allows you to look at a case from a different angle.”

Carisi, for the first time since they had started talking, smiled. Grinned, even. Rafael inwardly cheered. A little. It seemed that the conversation had been a success.

But Carisi didn’t stop at a smile; “Aw, counselor, I didn’t know you cared!” he said, and if only he knew how true that statement was. Rafael chose to keep that to himself and, instead, took on one of his familiar expressions of fond irritation.

Carisi wasn’t deterred and continued: “I mean, with the way you constantly mock me and all, you can’t blame me for thinking you hated my guts.”

Rafael froze; somehow, even though it seemed obvious in retrospect, it had never occurred to him that Carisi might view his playful – OK, rude, his rude remarks as hostile.

Rafael always thought Carisi enjoyed their little give-and-take. Had that been wishful thinking? And was this the reason Carisi had been hesitant to joke with him for quite some time?

Whatever the reason, Rafael needed to set the record straight; and ‘needed’ was no understatement. Rafael could actually feel a knot in his stomach; he felt guilt, for mistreating a possibly oblivious Carisi.

So, Rafael very deliberately looked into the detective’s still smiling eyes and unequivocally said: “I don’t hate you Carisi! If I did, I wouldn’t bother. You’re kind of fun to mess with.”

Carisi’s smile got even wider. There. That was better. He then looked down demurely – which really was sweet, even if Rafael did not allow his brain to acknowledge that – and, after a brief pause, said, “So it’s OK if I keep trying to impress you?”

Rafael’s eyes snapped up. That was quite the comment from Carisi. It meant that maybe Rafael had worried a little too much; maybe Carisi did see their little exchanges as opportunities to gain Rafael’s approval, just like he always thought.

Rafael tested the waters, nonchalantly asking: “Is that what you’ve been trying to do?”

Carisi blushed. Rafael felt his insides stir. What was happening? One minute Rafael was making a mostly innocent, only slightly suggestive remark, and the next he was sitting dangerously close to a delectably rosy Carisi, feeling what a lesser individual might describe as ‘butterflies’.

Rafael didn’t know what to say, and it was clear that Carisi wasn’t going to say anything either. Ultimately, Rafael resorted to joking: “Yes, you can keep trying. One of these days you may even succeed. Though I highly doubt it.”

Carisi seemed to enjoy this little gibe, if his giggle was any indication, but Rafael was still feeling unsettled. It was normal for Carisi to have what might be a schoolboy crush on him. It was normal for Carisi to awkwardly blush in his presence. To be intimidated by him, even. But Rafael’s own reaction? That was a whole different story.

Still shaken, Rafael glanced at his watch without actually looking at the time, which was something he did whenever he felt awkward. Unfortunately, Carisi was too observant for his own good, and he apparently took that gesture to mean that Rafael wanted to leave. Which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

As the detective tried to stand up, Rafael tried to stop him, again using the forearm method. It was odd, but he felt that he couldn’t let Carisi go without at least one last bit of advice; “I just want to make this clear. You have potential. Obviously there’s a lot of room for improvement, but you can’t improve on your own. You shouldn’t isolate yourself. In your line of work, team work is important. You can’t forget that.”

Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say; Rafael thought that he was being adequately supportive, but Carisi just lost his smile again and started pouting, saying that he was trying hard, maybe too hard, and asking if he would ever fit in and,  _oh brother._

Adorable as that little outburst was to witness, it was also a little exasperating; Carisi seemed like he had been making progress.

Rafael switched gears, trying out some tough love: “This isn’t high school Carisi, you’re not here to exchange friendship bracelets. You’re a cop. You have a good job at a great unit and you’re talking yourself out of it. You’re overreacting and you need to stop.”

That didn’t work either. Carisi’s shoulders sagged and he exhaled; “Yeah, I know. I mean, it’s not even that bad. They don’t always insult me, most of the time they tolerate me just fine. But I’m not that bad either, and I think I deserve better than to just be tolerated.”

That hit Rafael hard. It was one thing for Carisi to feel like he didn’t fit in; it was another thing for him to feel–

Carisi stood up before Rafael could even complete his thought, and abruptly said, “I’m sorry counselor; I don’t mean to keep unloading this on you.”

Rafael wondered why he kept feeling disappointed every time Carisi tried to leave. As if he didn’t know the answer. So he pulled out the big guns: “Then don’t. You’re having a tough time? Suck it up.”

Rafael paused, as if anticipating the hilarious double take Carisi eventually did, and then he continued: “Suck it up and quit complaining already. I can guarantee you that things are not as bad as you think. You’re doing a good job. But… you’re not entirely wrong. It’s not fun to simply be tolerated. I know that feeling.”

Carisi gave him a look that was almost too discerning; but Rafael wasn’t ready to get into his own issues just yet, so he chose to end the evening on an optimistic note. He got up and said, “If I were you, Carisi, I wouldn’t discount Manhattan SVU just yet. I think there’s room for you here.”

The detective smiled again, though the smile did not reach his eyes. Rafael felt the urge to touch him, but he knew that he couldn’t, not really. So, he settled for a small pat on Carisi’s back and a quiet “Goodnight, Detective.” That had to be enough. For the time being.

Rafael left the bar thinking that things had to change; he needed to be a little more mindful of Carisi’s feelings. While he, of course, remained in complete denial about some feelings of his own. Carisi clearly valued Rafael’s… friendship, at the very least. There was no need for Rafael to provoke him with constant taunts.

Sure, it felt good to tease Carisi, to mess with him, as long as the detective was in on the joke and threw out insults of his own – which he was more than capable of.

But, that night, in that quiet corner booth, Rafael had been surprised to realize there was something that felt even better; being the one to put a smile on Carisi’s face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

**IV. Italian**

All hell was breaking loose. Rafael had gotten a call from an unusually terse Liv, who had informed him of a breakthrough in the case; Amaro had gotten an iffy confession and the squad had managed to rescue the missing victim, but Liv seemed pretty certain that the confession would not hold, so she needed Rafael’s advice.

Rafael had literally just walked into the precinct when he heard yelling. Carisi, Amaro and Rollins were apparently involved in a shouting match, with Fin refereeing. Carisi was trying to convince the others that the confession would not stick, and Fin seemed to agree, but Amaro and Rollins seemed hell-bent on arguing that everything had been done by the book.

Rollins eventually snapped, “OK Carisi, just because you took a few classes doesn’t mean you get to lecture us. The confession is good.”

Rafael paused; was that what Carisi had to deal with? People constantly berating him? Using his education against him? At least when Rafael did it, he meant it as a joke, not an insult. That made it better… or not.

It was a good thing Rafael had been going out of his way to be nicer to Carisi in the month since their little conversation at the bar, otherwise his guilt would have been unbearable.

Still, he figured there was nothing wrong with overcompensating some more, so he decided to end the argument for good by backing up Carisi. In public. Because, apparently, Rafael was getting soft in his old age.

Stepping up behind Rollins, Rafael said; “Actually, Rollins, the confession is not good. It will never hold up in court. And we don’t want the interrogation techniques of this precinct under further scrutiny, either. So I suggest that you listen to Carisi – yes, shocking, I know – and get creative. We need a different way to pin this on the suspect.”

Benson, having just come out to settle the commotion, followed his lead and ordered everyone to take a step back and reevaluate the case.

Carisi had barely even looked at Rafael. The detective was red, but not in the usual, alluring, flushed kind of way; he looked indignant, and he was obviously trying to keep his reactions in check. He was poring over the case file, steam practically coming out of his ears. Rafael felt for him.

But Rafael also felt for himself. Even though he and Carisi had shared a lot of little moments in the previous month or so, even though Rafael had managed to put a smile on the detective’s face on many occasions, this latest mess of a case hadn’t let him interact with Carisi in over a week. Not that Rafael was keeping track. And not that he had missed Carisi or his stupid dimples or anything.

Rafael didn’t have much time, since he needed to meet with the suspect’s attorneys, but still, he couldn’t help himself. He approached Carisi quietly and simply said, “Detective…”

Rafael could have sworn that Carisi got even redder, except this time it was for a good reason. It wasn’t an easy distinction to make, but Rafael had become a nascent expert on The Many Shades of Sonny Carisi’s Skin.

Rafael hated that he had to leave, but at least he felt better after this minute exchange. And the worst part? Deep down, he even hoped the same was true of Carisi.

~ ~ ~

The case was finally closed. The squad had gotten a critical witness statement, Rafael had managed to negotiate a plea bargain that came with an impressively harsh sentence, and all that was left was the paperwork. Stacks and stacks of it. Rafael didn’t need to deal with it immediately, but he also didn’t have anything better to do – and, yes, that was sad. So, he decided to get a head start and have a late night at the office.

After an indeterminate amount of time, as well as paperwork, Rafael heard a knock on the door, which was strange since he could have sworn his secretary had already left. Still, he said, “Come in,” without bothering to look up.

“Evening, counselor.”

It was that damn accent. Rafael’s head instinctively shot up, just in time to see a smiley Carisi, cutely poking his head through the door. Rafael had to struggle to conceal his delight at this unexpected visit. Instead, he faux-casually returned the greeting and said, “I see they still have you doing the grunt work. It’s almost midnight.”

Carisi smiled some more and coyly said, “I don’t mind.”

The dreaded butterflies in Rafael’s stomach were apparently doing figure eights. Rafael decided he needed to check himself, in case he had a temperature. Or, maybe, it was the fact it was so late, and Rafael had been buried under piles of documents for hours so he could no longer think straight. There was no way Carisi’s dimples had this effect on him.

Shaking his head, Rafael tried to focus on the case, and started going through the new stack of files Carisi had just dropped on his desk. Just as he was noticing how concise the detective’s notes were – and had he taken the time to rewrite them? How swee… nice. How nice. – Carisi softly spoke: “Um, I just wanted to thank you for earlier. For sticking up for me. You didn’t have to.”

Rafael looked at Carisi and wondered if he was about to start sulking again. Carisi’s mood had very obviously improved in the past month, and Rafael just hoped that this difficult day hadn’t set him back.

That said, if the detective needed to vent, Rafael would be there for him. Sure, all the moping had been annoying at first, but Rafael was well past ‘annoying’. Now the only words he associated with Carisi were ‘endearing’ and ‘cute’ and ‘I have bad taste’.

Not to mention, Rafael just liked happy Carisi better because he blushed more often when he was in a better mood. At least according to Rafael’s makeshift pie charts.

Fortunately, the detective didn’t seem to be feeling that low; Rafael only had to make a few cursory remarks about tough cases, and how they always trigger arguments, and how he shouldn’t take it personally, and Carisi seemed to perk right up. Rafael chose to just smile and ignore the fact he felt like it was his personal responsibility to cheer Carisi up.

Unfortunately, a cheery Carisi was a chatty Carisi, and – OK, who was Rafael kidding? He liked chatty Carisi.

So he listened with interest as the detective excitedly said, “… it’s all good. We actually smoothed things out. Apologies and all. Kind of. And, I gotta say, you telling everybody I was right played a big part. I mean, I‘m always saying I’m right but they  _ have  _ to listen to you. See, you were right. I had been moping for too long, and I did need a good kick in the ass.”

Rafael saw a chance to gather some more blush-related data; in his most suggestive tone, he said, “Well, Carisi, some would say that is my specialty.”

Score. Carisi’s cheeks instantly flooded with color. Rafael loved being proven right.

A now pleasantly pink Carisi continued: “No but seriously, I took your advice, from the other night. I stopped keeping my thoughts to myself. Like today; I spoke up when I disagreed, I didn’t back down, and then I explained myself to Amaro. And I still managed to get through a rough case like this unscathed. Maybe I even gained a little respect. That’s a win in my book.”

Rafael stopped with the silly games. Carisi was being serious. And he was saying something honest. He was saying that he was being proactive, that he was fighting for his place in the squad, no longer sitting quietly in a corner. He was saying that he was reaching out, that he was standing up for himself, no longer avoiding conflict.

Carisi was saying that he was done isolating himself. Just like Rafael had said.  _Because_ of what Rafael had said. 

It was almost strange for Rafael to be faced with an earnest, non-mopey, non-sad, non-silly, non-jokey version of Carisi. With a version of Carisi he could actually like. With a version of Carisi he  _did_ like, if he was honest. Which he most certainly was not. 

Rafael had long pretended his attraction to the detective was purely superficial; after all, he had always been partial to lanky, pasty guys from Staten Islan… Yeah, no. Even in his state of denial, Rafael had to admit that Carisi was not exactly his type.

And yet… And yet,  _something._ ‘Something’ was as far as Rafael could go for the time being. Baby steps.

The thing was, even though Rafael had pretty much spent the last couple of months trying to make Carisi feel better, it was still a little bit jarring for him to confront feelings that ran a bit deeper than ‘this guy is sweet’ or ‘I like this guy’s tailored pants’. And it was even more jarring for Rafael to think that his advice had actually helped Carisi in a real way. To think that Rafael had that influence over him.

Rafael was officially overthinking things again; he took a breath to clear his mind and sincerely said, “I’m happy for you, Detective.”

Carisi got a glint in his eye and cheekily said, “Come on counselor, you singlehandedly saved my job and you still can’t call me Sonny?”

Rafael didn’t say anything at first, in part because he was trying to suss out Carisi’s intentions; was the detective subtly flirting, taking baby steps of his own? Was he finally making a – slightly – more overt move to further their relationship? Had he finally realized that blushing profusely was not a viable method of courtship? Or was Carisi still too shy to try anything, and this was just another plea for Rafael’s approval?

Of course, in truth, Rafael was also stalling because he was enjoying the look of anticipation on the detective’s face; maybe a little too much. So, after a few long seconds, Rafael decided to indulge him: “Well,  _ Sonny, _ despite your substantial whining, I don’t think your job was ever at risk, but still. Oh and you can keep calling me counselor.”

Carisi… no,  _Sonny,_ got the happiest look on his face. Like Rafael’s voice saying his name was the best thing he’d ever heard. Like he hadn’t even caught Rafael’s little barb. Like–

Before Rafael could further embarrass himself by interpreting Sonny’s giddy smile in twelve different ways, his phone buzzed. And, just as he finished reading Liv’s text, inviting him to another night of celebration, Sonny’s phone buzzed too. So he was invited as well.

Rafael felt undeniably enthusiastic – literally. He tried to deny his enthusiasm, but he failed. He figured that, if he was lucky, maybe he’d get to capitalize on the night’s events. Maybe he’d get to spend a little more time with Sonny, maybe he’d get him to open up some more; maybe they’d get even closer, maybe over drinks, maybe after everyone else had left.

He just had to make sure Sonny was coming, so Rafael tried to leave him no choice: “It looks like the squad is going out on a school night again and, what do you know, you’re invited too! Come on  _ Sonny, _ let’s get going. We need to celebrate the new you.”

It was not lost on Rafael that now  _he_ was the one with a look of anticipation on his face. He just hoped his was a little less transparent.

Sonny seemed to be debating his answer. It was clear he wanted to join Rafael, but he was probably not too eager to go out drinking with the other detectiv–

“You go on ahead, counselor. I have to eat something, I haven’t had anything all day and I’m going to need something other than bar nachos to sustain me.”

Wait, what? A polite refusal? Had Rafael been reading this all wrong? No way. Was Sonny just being shy again? Or, even worse, was Sonny being insecure? What if he thought Rafael was asking him along out of obligation or politeness, just because they’d gotten those texts simultaneously?

Rafael decided to be more direct. He had to, if he wanted Sonny to ever catch on – and he sort of did. Sure, it was a little rash, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Not that Rafael was desperate, of course. Figure of speech.

So, Rafael tried to look totally casual as he said, “Well, how about Italian?”

The ball was now in Sonny’s court. Sonny, who looked almost hilariously confused. Had Rafael not been direct enough? Or had he, in fact, read the situation wrong? What if Sonny was looking for an excuse to say no?  _Oh God._ Was Rafael about to be rejected by Sonny freaking Carisi? Maybe there was still time for him to retract the offer first, before Son– 

“That _does_ sound great; I could go for some pasta.” Oh. OK. Crisis averted.

Rafael got up before Sonny could change his mind, and said, “Follow me; I know a great place that stays open late.” He quickly left the office, smirking a little when he heard Sonny’s eager footsteps right behind him.

~ ~ ~

Rafael had just the perfect restaurant in mind. It was a nice little place, intimate, one might even say romantic – and Rafael stopped there, as he realized he was taking Sonny out on a date. An impromptu date. And Sonny himself probably was not aware of that crucial fact.

Or was he? The two of them were sitting in the back of a cab, a little too close; Sonny’s long legs were turned toward Rafael – the detective apparently had trouble fitting in behind the pushed back driver’s seat – and Sonny kept sneaking glances at him. There was definitely a vibe between them, a nervous energy. This didn’t feel casual, it didn’t feel friendly.

What if this  _was_ an official date? Did Rafael even want to date Sonny? And did Sonny want to date him or was he just infatuated? Only time would tell. All Rafael knew, at this point, was that he was getting a small thrill every time the cab took a turn and Sonny’s knee brushed up against his thigh.

The cab ride had been mercifully – or mercilessly – brief and, within a few minutes, Rafael and Sonny had been seated at Rafael’s favorite table and had placed their orders.

Sonny still looked a little nervous. He also looked handsome, Rafael had to admit. It was that damn low lighting. Which flattered Sonny’s fresh face but probably exacerbated Rafael’s own dark circles.

Thankfully, Sonny spoke and put an end to Rafael’s random thoughts: “Counselor, I realize it’s a little late to question this, but are you sure you don’t want to go meet up with the others?”

Interesting. Was Sonny giving him an out? Or was he trying to confirm that this was a date, or, at the very least, that Rafael had willingly chosen to spend time with him?

Rafael didn’t want Sonny to have any doubts, so he simply said, “I’m sure they can live without us,” like the others were the furthest thing from his mind. And, as he said it, he realized that it was true. Huh.

Sonny smiled and said something cute and self-deprecating, as always, but Rafael figured this was his chance to return the question and casually scope out the detective’s intentions: “Actually, now that you ask, why does it seem like most of your social interactions involve me?”

Sonny, still in self-deprecation mode, said: “Because you’re the only one who bothers?”

That didn’t reveal much. Rafael switched tactics and joked, “So I’m your last resort? That’s flattering.”

Sonny looked at him for a moment and grinned, saying, “No way counselor. If I had to pick, you’d definitely be number one on my list.”

That was better. That was a  _lot_ better. 

~ ~ ~

After they finished their dinner, and as they were still working on a bottle of wine, Rafael decided to make good on his plan to get to know Sonny a little better. To talk about something other than the job. To get closer.

So, Rafael asked a generic question; “…what about life outside the precinct? How have you been?”

He was hoping for a more personal answer but, unfortunately, Sonny started rambling about law school, and his papers, and his exams, and the fact he wasn’t going to practice law even though he had gotten his degree and – what?

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re done? You finished law school?”

Sonny beamed and said, “Yep!” And, seriously, who even said ‘yep’? A recent law school graduate, that’s who.

Rafael felt that irrational sense of pride once again; except this time it wasn’t that irrational, so he actually verbalized it.

Raising his glass, Rafael said, “That’s quite an achievement, Sonny. You should be proud. Congratulations.” Sonny’s grin reached epic proportions.

It was a bit of a cliché, but Rafael thought it fit the occasion, so he exclaimed, “This calls for a celebration!”

Sonny scoffed a little and said, “And I imagine by ‘this’ you mean the fact I won’t be practicing law anytime soon.”

Alright. Banter. The night was looking better and better.

Still, Rafael couldn’t help but think that it was a little weird for Sonny to be celebrating the completion of his degree during a dinner for two.

So, even as he hoped for a negative answer, Rafael asked, “Seriously Sonny, I assume you’ve already celebrated with your classmates but maybe you’d like to go to the bar with the others and celebrate more traditionally? I’m sure they’re still there.”

Sonny’s eyes rose to meet his, and the detective very deliberately said, “Nah, this is good, I’m good.”

Rafael couldn’t hold back a smile. Maybe this really was a date, after all. And maybe Rafael liked that.

Sonny went on to explain that he hadn’t really celebrated with his classmates either, in fact he hadn’t even told the other detectives about his degree.

Rafael should have maybe focused on the fact Sonny still kept his distance from the rest of the squad, but he got too distracted by a realization: “So I’m the first one you’ve told?”

Sonny blushed and looked away, like he couldn’t meet Rafael’s eyes. Rafael smirked, but didn’t say anything. It appeared that Sonny had let that slip; that he hadn’t intended for Rafael to put two and two together. And wasn’t that telling?

To end a potentially awkward moment, Rafael chose to expand on the topic of law school, since Sonny seemed comfortable talking about that. And, while he was at it, Rafael also chose to expand upon the table, leaning in, getting closer to Sonny.

Trying to ignore the detective’s obvious – and very endearing – discombobulation, Rafael asked Sonny why he had decided to attend law school in the first place. He had always wondered about that; Sonny continuously denied wanting to switch careers, so why get a law degree at all?

Sonny’s answer was almost surprising; “It might seem weird but I didn’t have an extra reason for going to law school. I didn’t want to become a lawyer or even a prosecutor, not originally. I just wanted to learn about the law, since I was supposed to uphold it, you know? I thought it would give me more leverage so I could help people more effectively.

“And I also wanted to figure out ways around it; to learn how to use the law to my advantage, to trick or to scare suspects. It was all about being a better detective. I didn’t even plan on going to law school, not at first. I just took some classes and a few seminars. But it was pretty fascinating stuff, so I stuck with it.”

There he was again. Knowledgeable, accomplished and savvy. Serious Sonny. It was almost hard for Rafael to reconcile this person with the Goofy Kid, the Pouty Colleague, or the Overeager Cop. But it  _was_ slowly getting easier for him to admit that he kind of, sort of, maybe, liked all those different versions of Sonny. 

The best version of Sonny, though? Rafael’s instant favorite, barely edging out Blushing Sonny? Flirty Sonny. Flirty Sonny, on a maybe-date, smiling sweetly.

Rafael felt like he wanted to keep looking at that smile for as long as possible, so he commended Sonny some more, saying how hard it must have been for him to do his job and attend night school at the same time.

The detective adorably frowned at ‘night school’, and Rafael seized the opportunity; “By the way, I hope you never felt offended by my, uh, disparaging comments about your alma mater, that wasn’t my intention. Just a little academic rivalry. Fordham Law may not be Harvard Law but it’s a very reputable school. You did good.”

Sonny looked so proud. Like getting Rafael’s approval meant the world to him. And then he blushed again, for some strange reason. Rafael was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to cause that one, but he enjoyed it all the same.

Visibly trying to shake off his reaction – to Rafael’s amusement – Sonny took a drink and then asked, “So, counselor, I told you about me. What was it like when  _ you  _ first graduated? Harvard, no less? Did you celebrate?”

Rafael supposed that fair was fair; plus, he was glad that Sonny seemed to be returning his interest. So, again, he indulged the detective: “Yes,  _Sonny._ I did celebrate. And not just by having dinner. I actually took a two-week trip to Cuba with some of the guys from my graduating class. It was… It felt like coming home, in a way, but it was also very far removed from my reality at the time. Still; it was right after grad school and right before I officially started my career. That was pretty much the last time I was ever carefree.” 

Sonny’s eyes were twinkling. Rafael didn’t know why, until he heard the next question: “So what did you do? Did you party? Did you get drunk? Did you dance?”

Leave it to Sonny to pose  _this_ question to a grumpy, private and surly Assistant District Attorney. ‘Did you dance?’ 

Rafael laughed, despite his best efforts – because this was classic Sonny – but he did not elaborate. He simply said, “That’s a story for another evening.” The scariest part? He really hoped that other evening would actually come.

Sonny smiled a little too knowingly; because of course Rafael had gotten drunk, and of course he had danced, and if Sonny was lucky Rafael might one day take  _him_ out dancing, if only to watch those long limbs awkwardly swaying to the rhythm, if only to hold–

“OK, so, after you came back, what happened? I bet you had your whole career planned out.” Sonny’s voice interrupted his thoughts again. Oh yes; while Rafael was busy fantasiz… picturing Dancing Sonny, Actual Sonny was trying to have a conversation.

Rafael answered as honestly as he could; “Well, yes. I knew I didn’t want to be a defense attorney. I knew I wanted to help people who were hurt. And I knew I wanted to make something of myself. I wanted my family to be proud, and I wanted to prove I was up for the task. Getting into Harvard was hard enough, graduating wasn’t easy, but the hardest part was after that. A Harvard law degree pries doors open, but then you have to keep those doors from closing on your face, especially if you come from a poor Cuban family.”

Whoa. Rafael had gotten caught up in the moment there; maybe he had been a bit too honest, maybe he had said too much. Did Sonny even care about any of this?

One look at the detective’s face was enough to answer that question; Sonny was looking at Rafael with a, frankly, impressive amount of concentration, like he was hanging from Rafael’s every word. And he clearly wanted to know more: “So you became a prosecutor?”

Rafael decided to keep being honest: “Yes. And I focused entirely too much on my conviction rate and my fashion sense and I isolated myself from my colleagues because I saw them as competition and I worked maybe too hard to get ahead.”

There it was. The reason Rafael had noticed that Sonny was having trouble. The reason he saw a tiny bit of himself in Sonny – which,  _phrasing_ – and the reason he wanted to help. One of the reasons, at least.

To his credit, Sonny immediately picked up on it and asked, “Is that why you talked to me that night at the bar? Why you were looking out for me? Because your old colleagues only ‘tolerated’ you too?”

Sonny had seen right through him, and Rafael didn’t bother denying it: “Yeah. Pretty much. I told you, I know what that’s like, and I also know that we often bring that isolation on ourselves. I guess I wanted to help you out. But, to be honest, there was another reason too.”

Sonny’s eyes widened slightly, and he leaned closer; was he expecting Rafael to admit to his attraction? How charming. But it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Rafael kept it professional; “Don’t think you’re the only one who’s ever had a hard time at Manhattan SVU. They can be pretty brutal to newcomers until you earn their approval. It took me a good six months until they stopped snapping at me and stage-whispering about my evilness while I was still in the room.”

Sonny’s eyes were now bulging out of his head. Rafael chuckled and elaborated on his past a little more, saying that he would refuse to prosecute cases he knew he couldn’t win, because he had a record to preserve.

“You’re not like that anymore,” was the detective’s soft-spoken yet assertive response. One of these days Rafael would really have to stop being surprised when Sonny proved to be so insightful.

Again, he did not deny Sonny’s words: “No, I’m not. Working with this squad changed me, like I can see it’s changing you. I find myself… caring more. And I don’t like it.” Rafael did try to say this jokingly but, in truth, he was getting a little self-conscious. These chats were supposed to be about Sonny’s little personal confessions, not his.

Sonny chuckled, and generously changed the subject – and there was that insight again. “Well, if it took the squad six months to warm up to you, by my calculations they should accept me in about twelve years.”

So, Sonny hadn’t only backed off; he had recognized Rafael’s unease and he had even made another self-deprecating joke, so Rafael wouldn’t be the only one feeling embarrassed. Rafael was almost touched.

This display of understanding from Sonny deserved something in return: “Fair enough, but you have to factor in that I have a mean streak and I always snapped back at them; you are like an overgrown puppy, eager for a treat, and I’m finding it hard to see how anyone could not like you.”

There. Rafael had made a small move. He had, in a very roundabout way, admitted that he liked Sonny. That was quite the step up from his previous admission, about a month earlier, in that bar, when Rafael had said that he didn’t hate Sonny. Progress.

Sonny blushed. Furiously. Rafael would have found this entertaining if he hadn’t realized the truth; Sonny had seen right through him again. He was blushing so hard because he had, quite possibly, read the subtext in Rafael’s seemingly innocuous comment. Oh well. It had to happen. Maybe the detective would finally decide to make a move of his own.

Still visibly flustered, Sonny took the easy way out; he ignored the most pertinent part of Rafael’s comment and focused on the harmless part, the part about people not liking him: “You’d be surprised. Or not. I worked at five different precincts before I landed at Manhattan SVU. I worked homicide first, for a few years. I never exactly made a lot of friends.”

Rafael wasn’t about to let this conversation get off track again, so he all-too-casually said: “Did you have that ungodly moustache the whole time? Because, let me tell you, that would explain it.”

Poor Sonny, who was taking a sip of wine, practically did a spit take. Rafael tried not to laugh and, instead, leaned closer and patted Sonny on the back. Sonny’s face turned red yet again, and it was even more tempting up close, and Rafael found it hard to actually stop touching him. The more Rafael touched him, the more Sonny blushed; the more Sonny blushed, the more Rafael wanted to keep touching.

Still, Rafael could only fake-pat the detective’s back for so long before it became suspicious, so he pulled away. Mostly. Enjoying the proximity, not wanting to move away entirely, Rafael placed his hand on the table, right by Sonny’s, barely resisting the urge to touch him again.

Just then, their waiter approached with the bill. Rafael hadn’t even realized it had gotten that late. So, this sort-of-date was over. Rafael would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed.

But his disappointment was short-lived; just as he reached for the bill, Rafael first felt, and then saw Sonny’s hand cover his. The touch was unmistakably purposeful. Sonny was effectively holding his hand, and he wasn’t moving. It was only a simple touch, and yet it made Rafael’s heart skip. His heart hadn’t skipped since college. Rafael turned to look at the detective, inquisitive.

Sonny seemed determined as he said, “Why don’t you let me take care of it, counselor?”

Rafael had to admire Sonny’s courage. And he also had to one-up him; this whole date had been Rafael’s idea, he wasn’t about to let Sonny get away with the grand gesture at the finale.

So, Rafael, his eyes still locked on Sonny’s, twisted his hand a little and pulled it away, slowly, dragging his fingers across Sonny’s palm.

Sonny looked at him, mesmerized, as Rafael softly said, “I think it’s time you start calling me Rafael.”

The look on Sonny’s face changed completely. He didn’t seem unsure anymore. He knew. He didn’t seem insecure, or cautious, or even sweetly hopeful. He was smiling, but in a new way. A different way. He finally looked confident again; like the old Sonny, the one who had been absent for so long.

“Are you sure about that, _Rafael_?” said the detective, in what was surely his cockiest tone of voice.

Rafael smirked as he answered, “Don’t make me regret it,  _Sonny.”_

They were interrupted by their waiter again, and the next few minutes went by quickly; before Rafael knew it, Sonny had paid, they’d both put their coats on and they were now standing on the sidewalk, facing each other in anticipation.

Sonny licked his lips, except this time it didn’t feel like a nervous tick; it felt like preparation. Like desire. Rafael couldn’t look away; he took in a deep breath, feeling Sonny’s every little move low in his stomach.

And then, right as Rafael was debating the mechanics of pulling him in for a kiss – and did Sonny have to be so tall? – Sonny smiled sweetly and said, “Well, Rafael, thanks for tonight. I had a great time. Maybe we could do this again?”

Rafael had to hold back a laugh. He felt like he was back in high school, like Sonny wanted a second date before they got to the good stuff. But what if… Was this maybe an attempt to show Rafael that his interest was more than physical? Sonny was so damn corny, Rafael wouldn’t put it past him.

Liking that thought a little too much, Rafael took a step toward Sonny, who involuntarily leaned in. Rafael resisted his urge to just grab the man and kiss him on the spot; instead, he touched Sonny’s arm, squeezing lightly, and said, ‘Oh we will. Goodnight Sonny. Sleep tight.”

Rafael started walking away, and he only heard a hilariously faint “Goodnight!” from Sonny about 5 seconds later. He decided to walk for a few more blocks, instead of taking a cab. He needed the not-so-fresh air, and he needed to think.

Denial was now a thing of the past. Rafael had to admit it; he hadn’t felt this enthusiastic about a prospective dalliance in a long time. Rafael had been alone a lot, and he’d had casual flings, and he’d been in dull but status-appropriate relationships with big shots, but this excitement? This flurry of feeling? This was new.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

**V. Transfer**

Rafael was on his way to the precinct; sure, he could have sent his assistant, but he’d figured he would make the trip himself since he’d had a light workload that day. He needed to get some files, plus he needed the detectives’ notes and that was always a hassle, so it was better to do it in person and– oh, who was he kidding? He was hoping he might catch a glimpse of Sonny.

It had been four days after their dinner, and two days after Sonny had asked him out via text, the coward, and Rafael knew they were meeting later that day, and all he had to do was wait a few hours, but still.

He had missed Sonny. He wanted to see him, just for a bit, before they went out on their dinner date. Maybe he could tease Sonny a little, get him a little flustered. Maybe he could see that blush one more time.

Unfortunately, when Rafael did get to the precinct, Sonny was nowhere to be found. Masking his disappointment, Rafael got the files he needed – he wanted to prep for a statutory case early, taking advantage of the lull in his workload because, yes, that hadn’t just been an excuse – and he got Amaro and Fin’s notes as well.

That, at least, gave Rafael the opportunity to casually ask about Sonny’s whereabouts: “I’m going to need Carisi’s notes too, where is he?”

Amaro replied that Liv had sent him to the M.E.’s office and then straight home. So much for seeing Sonny. It appeared that Rafael was out of luck.

Unaware of his disappointment, Amaro offered to call Sonny and ask where he kept his old notes; Rafael had to struggle to sound believable as he casually said “Never mind, I’ll call him myself.”

Would Amaro believe that Rafael would ever call Sonny directly? Was Rafael being weird? Suspicious? But then, Amaro, for some strange reason, didn’t seem to be scrutinizing their 30-second conversation all that much and, OK, Rafael was overthinking things again.

At least Rafael remembered to pretend that he didn’t have Sonny’s number, and asked Amaro to give it to him – overthinking was one thing, but these people  _were_ detectives. He stepped further away for privacy and, with a sigh, settled for calling Sonny.

He could have sworn that Sonny answered after half a ring: “Hello, Rafael. You do realize this is the first time we’re talking on the phone.”

Ugh. And by ‘ugh’ Rafael meant ‘aw’. But he didn’t want to give himself away, so he curtly – but still fondly, dammit – said, “Oh God. You’re one of those. You’re going to be insufferably cute and adorable and all those annoying things.”

Sonny chuckled and actually asked him something about an outfit? His date outfit? Did he want fashion advice? Rafael wasn’t sure, because clearly he was hearing things.

Sonny actually giggled and gave up: “OK, OK, I get it. Just don’t complain if you hate my tie.”

Well, that did sound like something Rafael might do. Maybe Sonny did have a point. So Rafael acquiesced: “No tie. Wear something casual. Just be yourself.”

As soon as those words had left his mouth, Rafael wished he could take them back. ‘Just be yourself’? Where the hell had that come from? Sonny was supposed to be the corny one. Sonny, who was most definitely gearing up for a cocky retort.

Not if Rafael could help it: “I never said that!” he swiftly said, before Sonny could even speak. Sonny, demonstrating his perceptiveness yet again, laughed but said nothing.

Rafael tried to compose himself before getting to the reason he was calling: “Strange as it may seem, Sonny, I didn’t call you so we could coordinate outfits. I’m actually at the precinct, and I need your notes on that statutory case from last month. I’ll be doing some preliminary prepping over the weekend.”

“Is _that_ what you’ll be doing over the weekend?” said Sonny, a little too coyly. 

Oh.  _Oh._

Finally, Sonny was being forward. It had taken him long enough. Sure, cute exchanges and surreptitious glances were fun, but it was good to see this other, this naughtier side of Sonny rear its pretty head.

So, Rafael used his deepest, breathiest voice as he replied, “I see you’re way bolder over the phone. If only I’d known, we could have saved so much time.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. A very extended pause.

Rafael could practically hear Sonny blushing through the phone – yes, it was possible to hear a blush and yes, Rafael was doing it. It appeared that he had succeeded, after all. He’d gotten Sonny all good and flustered, just in time for their date. The trip to the precinct hadn’t been a waste after all.

After a few moments, Sonny apparently got himself together and muttered, “Um, so. Yeah. The notes are in the bottom left drawer at my desk, they should be the first or second thing you see.”

Laughing, Rafael said, “OK, Sonny. I’ll see you tonight.”

Sonny whispered, “I’m looking forward to it,” and, dammit, that warmed Rafael’s cold heart. He couldn’t resist quickly throwing out a quiet “Me too,” before he hung up.

Rafael stepped toward Sonny’s desk and opened the bottom left drawer, as instructed. On the top of a pretty substantial pile was one of Sonny’s textbooks, one that he wouldn’t be needing anymore because Rafael was dating a law school graduate now and oh God he felt old.

Going back to the pile, and under that book, just like Sonny had said, Rafael found the case notes he was looking for. He was about to put the book back inside the drawer when his eye caught the words ‘Transfer Request’ on a form that was now sitting on top of the pile. That couldn’t be…

Before he even finished that thought, Rafael calmly decided to pull out the forms, quickly realizing it wasn’t just one document. It was a series of forms and applications and they were all filled out, obviously ready to be filed at any moment. The name on all of them? ‘Dominick Carisi Jr.’

Rafael’s heart dropped, but he forcibly pulled it back up. No. He was not going to react prematurely. He calmly – still, calmly – flipped through the documents again but, of course, the writing on them didn’t change. So. That was that.

~ ~ ~

Rafael left the precinct, taking the forms with him and still trying to maintain his composure. He got to his office in record time, and thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have a lot of work to do; of course, he then realized his stars couldn’t have been that lucky because then Sonny wouldn’t be leaving and…

OK, no. Rafael needed to look at the facts. Except he didn’t have any facts, other than those papers. He only had questions; Sonny was putting in for a transfer? When? Why? Sure, he had certain issues with the rest of the squad but the situation had improved, right?

And how long had he even been considering it? Why had he never told Rafael? Wasn’t Sonny always moaning about all his problems, in excessive detail, confiding in him? Weren’t they always having too-honest conversations? Even before their date, before their… their thing? Why did Sonny leave that part out? That he wanted to leave?

Rafael was finding it hard to stay calm. In fact, he was getting angry. Here he was, thinking that poor, sweet, innocent Sonny was having trouble. That he was a fish out of water, trying to fit in; that he needed help, that he needed advice, that he needed Rafael as a friend and mentor, even aside from whatever else was – or wasn’t – happening between them.

In the meantime, the real Sonny was cleverly trying to advance his career; he was making strategic moves, looking into other precincts, procuring and filling out forms – he had even listed his law degree in one of the applications, which particularly stung, for some reason – and covertly working all the angles. Rafael was almost impressed.

After a few minutes of seething, however, Rafael thought back on all the things Sonny had told him and he started feeling like anger was perhaps an excessive reaction. Sonny really was having trouble fitting in, trouble that Rafael himself had witnessed. That hadn’t been a lie. Except Rafael dismissed most of his concerns, saying that Sonny was overreacting and that he just needed to toughen up, and how insensitive was that?

What if Sonny had simply reached his breaking point? What if the transfer wasn’t a career choice, but a necessity? Because Sonny just couldn’t make it work at Manhattan SVU? Just like he always said?

What if Rafael hadn’t listened? What if he could have helped more? Except, Rafael  _had_ helped. Sonny himself had said so. Had  _that_ been a lie? Or, and in retrospect this was more likely, had Sonny been putting on a brave face? 

Rafael was overthinking this so much he was going around in circles; half the time he was seeing Sonny as some sort of Machiavellian figure, taking advantage of him and his advice, and half the time he saw Sonny as a sweet kid who was in way over his head and was trying his best to cope. In all probability, neither view was wholly accurate.

At any rate, the job-related issues were only one part of the equation. What about their thing? ‘Thing’, of course, being the only term Rafael felt comfortable using at this point. Sonny had made it seem like he was really interested in Rafael, like he wanted something more serious than just a physical relationship.

Hell, if a fling was all that Sonny wanted, he could have gotten it by now. All he would have had to do was ask; Rafael would have been happy to oblige. They could have hooked up ages ago. Why did Sonny bother playing coy? Why did he act like it had taken him months to work up the courage to touch Rafael’s hand? What had been the point of their 4-month courtship, anyway?

Sure, Rafael had initiated the whole thing, because he had been too curious for his own good, curious about Sonny’s deteriorating mood. And, sure, Rafael had kept pressing the subject, early on, when Sonny seemed too dejected, too miserable to respond.

But after that? After they had gotten to know each other a little more? Sonny had clearly been a willing participant, returning his affections at the very least. Rafael wasn’t imagining things. There was the constant blushing, those sweet smiles, all the little hints; plus, Sonny had just asked him out on an actual date.

So, if he was planning on leaving, why did Sonny bother leading Rafael on? Not that Rafael was emotionally invested or anything. That’s not why he was upset. He wasn’t even upset – and, boy, back to denial he went.

Rafael was just… baffled. Their ‘thing’ had been progressing at a snail’s pace, which meant that they hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet. Why waste all that time?

They weren’t kids anymore – well, Rafael wasn’t – so these games were pointless. They were two grown men, they were attracted to each other, and they should have just gotten down to business, no pun intended. Why the wait? Why the conversations? Why the pretense of something more?

That was Rafael’s biggest problem and, if he was honest, he couldn’t even blame Sonny for it; Rafael hated that he had, even for a minute, fallen for it; that he had allowed himself to entertain the notion of an actual relationship with Sonny. He hated that he had obviously ascribed too much meaning to Sonny’s little reactions.

That miscalculation now left Rafael thinking that Sonny wasn’t just leaving; Sonny was leaving  _him,_ and wasn’t that overdramatic? They weren’t even together. Why should Sonny stay for him? Rafael clearly wasn’t worth staying for.

And there it was. What Rafael was afraid of. He always did this. Every time a relationship went bad – even an almost relationship, apparently – he started criticizing himself. Frankly, sometimes he did that on a good day, too. Rafael often thought he wasn’t good enough, that he didn’t deserve happiness, that no one would ever stay with him. Because he had been at it for a long time, and no one had ever stuck around so far, and he should probably see the writing on the wall, right?

During his low moments, Rafael would always comfort himself with all those platitudes that he normally abhorred but secretly hoped were true; that he was worthy of love, that he just hadn’t met the right person yet, that it wasn’t too late, blah blah blah.

But he had just been denied by Sonny freakin’ Carisi, and it was more upsetting than he cared to admit and, what, had he really thought that Sonny was the right person for him? How preposterous.

Rafael shook himself. No. Things were far simpler than that, and his confused mess of a reaction was truly over the top. He was making a big deal out of a small thing, mostly because he had been caught off guard.

Sonny leaving? Rafael had not seen it coming at all, and he always hated being the last to know. Not to mention, he hated that Sonny, of all people, had managed to do something totally unpredictable.

Up until that point, their ‘thing’ consisted of Rafael poking the bear – well, more like Yogi Bear, but still. Rafael held the reins, or so he thought; he was making his moves, planning ahead, instigating their meetings, coming up with ways to get a reaction out of Sonny. Rafael had perfected the art of making Sonny blush, for crying out loud, even over the phone. Sonny had, until that day, been endearingly predictable.

But now? Now Sonny had managed to get a huge reaction out of him without even trying. Rafael was used to always being ten steps ahead, and this was uncharted territory for him. He didn’t know how to process it.

So, Rafael went back to the facts; true, he didn’t have any facts about the transfer, just his own speculation, but he did have all the facts about his and Sonny’s ‘relationship’. Upon careful examination, one thing was clear; there was no relationship. Of course Sonny wouldn’t make serious career decisions based on what was, at best, a mild flirtation with a colleague, and Rafael had no reason to hold that against him.

Nothing had happened. They hadn’t even kissed. Sure, they had enjoyed a few moments, a few outings, and Sonny did always look so damn excited to be spending even a minute in Rafael’s company, and he did always look at Rafael with those soft eyes, and he did always blush as soon as Rafael came within 3 feet of him, and he did always look so damn smiley and happy and…

Rafael was getting carried away again. In reality, it would be a stretch to say that they were even casually dating. They had just gone on, what, one quasi-date and that had been it. It did look like Sonny wanted more, and Rafael definitely did, but we can’t always get what we want. Their little ‘thing’ had been fun, but not fun enough for Sonny to have to withstand a hostile work environment. And that was perfectly understandable.

Truth be told, Rafael had always known that he and Sonny weren’t compatible. How could he not? Rafael was self-made, he was cultured, he was Harvard-educated, he was an Assistant District Attorney with a real shot at getting that DA spot someday, he had an immaculate fashion sense, he appreciated the finer things in life, like operas, and yachts and good wine, and he was, above all, a serious man; dignified and refined.

Sonny? Sonny was a lout from Staten Island who didn’t know when to shut up, he was a cop who went to night school, he had once grown out a moustache on purpose, his idea of the ‘finer things’ probably involved pepperoni, reruns of  _The Golden Girls_ and cheap beer, and that didn’t sound so bad actually, but whatever; Sonny was barely out of grad school, and he was overeager, and he was ditzy, and he was amusing and he was sweet and he was fun to be with and Rafael was too cynical and too temperamental and too sarcastic and of course Sonny didn’t want him.

Dammit.

~ ~ ~

Rafael looked at the time; it was about seven thirty. Almost an hour wasted on being melodramatic. Actually, that wasn’t even close to Rafael’s record. Anyway, he was supposed to be picking up Sonny at nine. He had just enough time to get home, change into a fantastic suit – which would make whatever Sonny chose to wear look even tackier by comparison – and get to Sonny’s place.

So, Rafael got in his car and started driving. He also started coming up with a game plan in order to regain the upper hand. He was going to have a calm conversation with Sonny, peppered with acerbic remarks and belittling barbs. Then, he was going to casually bring up the transfer, returning the favor and catching Sonny off guard, and then he was going to pretend like Sonny leaving meant nothing to him. Sonny wouldn’t know what hit him. There. That seemed like a pretty good plan.

Which was why, about thirty minutes later, Rafael was more than a little surprised to find himself in front of Sonny’s building. It appeared that he had just driven there, as if on autopilot. Oh well. They were supposed to meet in less than an hour, and Rafael was there already, so he figured he’d just execute his plan anyway, just a bit sooner.

He took a big breath and rang the doorbell. After a few seconds Sonny’s voice came through, asking who it was. Rafael fully intended to casually say something like ‘Surprise!’, and pretend he had been early on purpose.

Except what he did say, very abruptly at that, was: “It’s me. Open the door.” That should have been Rafael’s first clue that the evening would not go as planned.

Sonny buzzed him in and Rafael leapt up the stairs. He was finding it a little difficult to stay calm; very difficult, in fact, but he was aware of his problem and he was working on it, and that was half the battle, right? He was trying to breathe slowly and he was taking long breaths and he was going to be perfectly composed by the time he got to Sonny’s door.

Yeah, that didn’t happen. Rafael saw Sonny, holding the door open, and the wind was knocked out of him. Sonny was obviously fresh out of the shower, and he was smiling a dimply smile, and he was wearing low-slung sweatpants and a barely-there white t-shirt, and his hair was still wet and, ugh, he had never looked better. This was not good.

Rafael just had to stop looking at him. He had to stop looking at that little patch of skin right above Sonny’s dangerously low waistband. Then, Rafael would be able to tame the part of himself that was still attracted to Sonny and he’d regain his composure and deliver the various sassy comments he had already prepared.

Yeah, that didn’t happen either. A visibly disgruntled Rafael brushed Sonny aside and stepped inside his tiny apartment and, wow, it looked surprisingly OK; Rafael was expecting something more fratty and messy and– no, this was no time for distractions. Rafael was mad. And he was getting madder by the second; he was getting madder every time Sonny anxiously asked him what was wrong.

Rafael knew he was being irrational. But there was just something about seeing Sonny looking all sweet and innocent, when he knew the truth; when he knew that Sonny had been keeping this from him. There was just something about seeing Sonny looking so damn good and so damn  _young_ and what was Rafael even thinking? Why had he let himself–

“Rafael, are you OK? Did something happen?” Sonny’s worried voice interrupted his bout of insecurity-slash-fury.

Really? ‘Did something happen’? Sonny didn’t know, he couldn’t possibly imagine why Rafael was so irration… so upset? Rafael could only glare in response, since he didn’t trust himself to speak yet, not without unleashing a barrage of four-letter words.

Sonny seemed appropriately spooked and he backed off. Rafael actually started pacing, thinking that might help. He really hated that he had lost his cool; this wasn’t supposed to happen. Why was it even happening? Why couldn’t he just be snarky and collected and, well, himself? Why was h–

“Rafael! What is going on?” Oh. It appeared that Sonny had had enough of his pacing and had decided to bodily block him.

Rafael did not respond well to the touch; he roughly pulled away, slipping from Sonny’s grasp. Sonny had the nerve to get the saddest little look on his face. He looked like someone had kicked his puppy. Rafael almost felt guilty; almost.

Rafael couldn’t stall any longer. He started speaking, and hoped for the best: “When were you going to tell me? After it was a done deal?

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not staking a claim here. I know we’ve only really been on one date, or, hell, maybe we’ve been on zero dates, maybe this was supposed to be our first real date, the first time we were both going in with eyes open.”

Alright. This was acceptable. Just like he planned, Rafael was downplaying their ‘thing’, acting like it was totally casual for him. Solid start.

“And I know… l know _now_ that I clearly overestimated your feelings, which is your fault because you kept looking at me like it all meant something. And I know that it’s my fault too for assuming, because what would you even want with me, you’re a kid, you’re a good kid and I’m older and I’m short-tempered and I’m no good for you and I get it.”

No. No, no, no. Why had he said that? Why did he sound so needy? Way to play it cool,  _counselor._ Rafael could no longer look at Sonny, but he had to keep talking:

“And I know that you’re obviously really focused on your career and you wanted guidance, you just wanted my advice... And I know that I misjudged your ambition, since you were obviously considering the best career move while you were still stuck at Manhattan SVU.”

OK, better. More scathing. Now if only he could keep it up:

“And I know you told me… You told me many times that you couldn’t fit in and you were having trouble but I thought things had gotten better. And I know that I was probably a fun way to pass the time while you waited, though I don’t know why you even bothered with our conversations, why you didn’t just cut to the chase, why you didn’t just sleep with me, why you let me believe…”

Yes, this was more like it.

“I mean, I know that we’re not… We haven’t even… I’m not anything to you.”

Sigh.

“But still, I think I deserved… You should have told me. You could have told me. What was the point of keeping it a secret? You can do whatever you want. I wouldn’t have tried to stop you.”

Yeah right.

“You should have told me that you were leaving.”

Rafael exhaled. He was done. That had been… way too much. Maybe he should have done this over the phone. Then he wouldn’t have had to deal with Sonny’s stupid face and his skinny arms and his goddamn collarbone up-close, and maybe he wouldn’t have lost his temper.

Speaking of Sonny, Rafael still hadn’t dared to look at him. Not yet. He couldn’t. Instead, he settled for opening his briefcase and pulling out all the transfer request forms. He held them out, still looking away, and waited until Sonny took them from his hands.

After a few seconds, Sonny practically pleaded, “Rafael…”

He had to look up. He had to see Sonny. Sonny, who looked overwhelmed as he spoke again: “I never signed them.”

Rafael had just started getting calm and now he was getting mad again. Was Sonny really about to lie?

Exhaling again, Rafael let out a weak “What?” until he saw that Sonny was trying to hand the papers back to him.

Sonny kept talking: “I never signed the forms. I never even filled out the dates.”

Rafael actually looked through the forms; Sonny had flipped to the last page of each document and, yeah, even though literally every other field had been filled out, the signatures and the dates were missing. So what?

“So what? You were obviously going to sign them when you…” Rafael couldn’t believe that Sonny was trying to deny everything, using a technicality as an argum–

“No. I never signed the forms because I decided not to put in for a transfer. I changed my mind about leaving.” Sonny spoke clearly and decisively. And he looked… honest.

Rafael felt like he could breathe easy again. And wasn’t that something? But still, he needed more information, he needed confirmation, so he asked: “When? When did you change your mind?”

Sonny smiled. He had that knowing look on his face again. Well, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that Rafael had reacted this way because he had feelin–

“When?” Sonny, thankfully, had interrupted his wandering mind again: “About 2 months ago. After you told me to suck it up. But you should really be asking why.”

Oh. _Oh._

The sense of relief that washed over Rafael was a little scary. But he just had to hear it, he needed it spelled out, he needed to be sure: “So… You’re not leaving.”

Sonny, with the cockiest grin on his face, took a step toward him and practically chirped, “Nope”.

So. Sonny was staying. Or, to be more precise, he never seriously intended to leave. Which meant that Rafael’s massive overreaction had been for nothing. Even worse, not only had he failed to catch Sonny off guard, he had also totally failed to act nonchalant – and yes, this was an understatement; Rafael had flipped out. He knew that. He had shown his hand. And Sonny was back in charge.

It was a good thing that Sonny was looking at him and smiling the happiest little smile, otherwise Rafael’s mortification would have been too much to bear. Now? Now Rafael felt pretty good.

Finding his long lost smirk, Rafael tried to look casual as he said, “Oh. Good. Because I was lying. I mean, I was lying about a lot of things, but mostly about me not trying to stop you. I was never gonna let you go anywhere.”

Sonny kept smiling knowingly as he moved even closer. Rafael met him halfway. They had never been so close before. Rafael was finally going to get a taste of those damn lips, after thinking about them for so long; as soon as Sonny took that last step, as soon as he bent down, as soon as…

Wait, what was taking so long? Sonny was just looking at him and breathing near Rafael’s mouth. What the… Did Rafael have to do everything?

Rafael couldn’t resist a dramatic eye-roll – which Sonny loved, if his grin was any indication – as he said, “Ugh, this is going to take forever!” Then he just pulled Sonny closer and finally,  _finally_ kissed him.

If Rafael was honest – and he was starting to be –, initial bravado aside, he was a little overwhelmed himself. He didn’t seem to be able to move; he was just leaning against Sonny, holding Sonny’s face, feeling the smile as Sonny’s cheeks shifted, feeling Sonny’s hand on his back, and breathing.

Thankfully, Sonny took it upon himself to do something for once; he put a hand on Rafael’s neck and pulled, fingers gently stroking, until their lips parted. Sonny then looked at him like he always did; like it all  _did_ mean something, like he was happy, like he was planning on sticking around and, oh God, Rafael hoped Sonny was going to kiss him again soon before all this sentimentality–

Sonny did kiss him. A few gentle pecks, at first, and then a real, deep kiss. Rafael stopped thinking.

The next time Rafael was aware of his surroundings, he was sitting on Sonny’s couch with a lap full of detective. A detective who, apparently, had a desire to talk – a desire very different from Rafael’s in that moment.

“What you said…” Sonny whispered and, no way, Rafael was not about to get into that.

“I told you. I was lying. I didn’t mean any of it.” There, Rafael had cleared things up with some old fashioned denial. Back to kissing now, please.

But Sonny wasn’t deterred. Neither by Rafael’s flippant tone, nor by his errant tongue. He softly said, “That’s not what I mean. You know you didn’t overestimate my feelings, right? If anything, I’m pretty sure you underestimated them.”

Oh.  _Oh._

Warmth flooded Rafael’s chest. Sonny had that look in his eyes again; that gentle, sweet, smitten look – smitten! That’s what it was. Looking at Sonny’s open, sincere face, Rafael couldn’t understand how he had ever doubted it. It was clear as day.

Sonny was in deep, just like Rafael was. That’s what he wanted to say. He wanted to make sure that Rafael knew. He wanted to make sure that Rafael wasn’t embarrassed, that Rafael wasn’t the only one who had laid his cards on the table.

Rafael would have marveled at Sonny’s insightfulness again, but he was too busy marveling at his soft, soft lips.


	2. And the Sixth

**VI. Dinner**

Rafael couldn’t remember ever feeling so chipper on a Monday. Especially not when it was 7 in the afternoon and he was already behind in his schedule; he’d had very different plans for the previous weekend, plans that involved work, but a certain blond detective had practically taken him hostage.

Rafael had been forced to stay over at Sonny’s tiny apartment, to eat greasy takeout, to go out wearing the same suit two days in a row, to rest, to relax, to have fun… Yeah, Rafael didn’t regret a single thing.

He especially didn’t regret making an impromptu visit to the precinct earlier that day. Rafael had tried to tell himself that he was just curious to see which of his pre-approved outfits Sonny had chosen to wear; after all, if they were going to be seen together, Sonny would need to up his wardrobe game even more.

Seen together by strangers, of course. Not by the squad. At least for the time being – and Rafael chose to ignore the fact he was already thinking of his ‘thing’ with Sonny as a potentially long-term… ‘thing’.

Still, he couldn’t imagine the others finding out yet. Liv would have a field day and Rollins would probably ask him if he literally ‘pulled a Carisi’ and oh God.

Anyway, in truth, Rafael’s little visit to the precinct hadn’t really been about the outfit. He just felt like seeing Sonny again, because he knew it would make his day. Which, frankly, wasn’t all that different from before. For months now, Rafael kept finding little excuses to stop by the precinct – though it  _had_ taken him forever to admit that he did that because of Sonny – and he had no intention of stopping.

The visit had been a resounding success; Sonny had failed to play it cool – what a surprise – and Rollins had actually teased him about a ‘hot date’ he’d had on Friday night. Which meant that, at some point, Sonny had, at least vaguely, talked about him, and had described him as a ‘hot date’. Not bad.

Even better? When Rafael had provoked him, Sonny had blushed like Rafael had never seen before. Sure, they had only been dating for a few days – a week, if their dinner sort-of date counted, and Rafael was shamelessly counting it – but it was good to see that their dynamic hadn’t changed.

Well, it hadn’t changed  _much._ Because, blushing aside, Sonny’s response hadn’t been flustered and adorable; it had been cocky and confident and bold. Sonny had looked right at him and said,  “I don’t kiss and tell,” practically daring Rafael to drag him into Benson’s blessedly empty office and kiss him. That imprudent little stunt had totally been Sonny’s fault. Obviously. 

Rafael looked at the time again; it was almost 8. It was a good thing he had sent his assistant on a grocery run earlier. He really had to get going if he wanted to get to his apartment in time to make dinner for himself and Sonny.

And, yes, he knew how absurd that sounded. But that whole weekend had been so good for Rafael;  _Sonny_ had been so good for Rafael, and he wanted to do something in return. Going by Sonny’s hilariously dumbfounded face after he had offered to cook, Rafael figured he had chosen well.

As soon as Rafael got home, he got cracking. He wasn’t out to impress Sonny, so he wasn’t going to do anything fancy; he thought he’d do something simple, something Sonny would like. Not to mention, he’d had a long day and he was tired and he’d whip up something quick and Sonny would be wise to appreciate his efforts.

Rafael figured he’d do pasta – always sure to be a hit – with a sophisticated-looking yet basic sauce. He settled on a red wine mushroom sauce; it was easy, it was one of his go-to recipes, they could finish off the rest of the wine afterwards, and Sonny would definitely enjoy it. Rafael started cooking the spaghetti and then quickly prepared the sauce. All in all, it took him about half an hour.

Which was half an hour more than he usually spent preparing for his dates, at least these days. Rafael could hardly remember the last time he had cooked for someone; he could hardly remember the last time he had  _wanted_ to cook for someone. 

It was a little strange; Rafael didn’t really see Sonny as someone who needed to be taken care of, which was sometimes the reason he got into cooking mode – Rafael did have a tendency to mother his boyfriends, or even his friends, unfortunately. Most of the time that just meant undue criticism and sassiness, but sometimes it meant dinner.

But no; Rafael didn’t want to take care of Sonny. He wanted to indulge him. To pamper him. To show Sonny that he shouldn’t feel rejected or ‘tolerated’ or undeserving, a feeling Rafael was all too familiar with. Even though he and Sonny were very –  _very_ – different, and even though the source of their insecurities wasn’t the same, Rafael could see they had that in common. 

Rafael hid it well, but he did have his issues on the personal front, owing to a streak of less than ideal relationships, not to mention big stretches of loneliness. He had spent a lot of his youth focusing on his studies, and then work, and he’d been very successful at both, but that didn’t help him in his private life. Eventually, Rafael had decided to borrow from his professional confidence. So, he created a strong, snarky façade to make up for whatever personal deficiencies he thought he had on a bad day.

Sonny, on the other hand, seemed to be having the opposite experience. He always seemed totally confident and well-adjusted on a personal level; when he had first joined the squad, he had even seemed arrogant. But then he had started getting more and more introverted, which was clearly against his nature. Rafael could only assume that Sonny’s professional struggles had caught up with him; that his personal confidence had ultimately been shaken after all those transfers, after he had failed, time and time again, to be accepted.

But enough with the armchair psychology nonsense – and, wow, Rafael should really not be left to his own devices for very long, Sonny had better hurry. All that was in the past. Sonny had found a place for himself now.

There would be no more transfers. Not if Rafael could help it. And, if he went a little overboard in making sure that Sonny knew that? In making sure that Sonny felt wanted? Oh well.

~ ~ ~

It was 9 o’clock. Sonny was supposed to be on his way, if not there already. Rafael had showered and picked out a more casual outfit; jeans and a nice navy blue polo shirt that probably cost more than most of Sonny’s suits.

In truth, Rafael just wanted to see the look on Sonny’s face when he’d first lay eyes on the jeans; Sonny had only really seen Rafael in his fancy suits – and his birthday suit, of course. The jeans would be new.

And, OK, Sonny had also let Rafael borrow some of his own clothes over the weekend, but they had all been really tight and really long – both unnecessary properties as far as Rafael was concerned – and that had simply not been Rafael’s best look. He had to make up for it somehow, and designer jeans were just the way to do that.

Rafael was in his living room, idly flipping through the channels a little too impatiently, when his phone rang. It was Sonny. That couldn’t be good.

Rafael picked up with a sigh: “Hello?” He really hoped that Sonny was just calling to say he was running a few minutes late.

“Rafael?” Oh boy. Sonny sounded apologetic.

Rafael wasn’t going to make this easy. “Yes?”

“I’m going to be late?” Apparently Sonny wasn’t making this easy either.

Rafael rolled his eyes: “Are you asking or are you telling me?”

Sonny chuckled and said, “I’m sorry! I’m still stuck at the precinct, going through phone records. I think I’m going to be a while.”

Rafael sighed again, cursing his luck. “When you say ‘a while’, do you mean, say, an hour, or do you mean that you’ll be pulling an all-nighter?”

Sonny paused and warily said, “An hour? …And change? I’m really sorry! If you want we can reschedule, it’s a Monday and I know you have court–”

Thankfully Rafael managed to interrupt Sonny before he talked himself out of their date: “I suppose we  _could_ reschedule. But then, I’ve already made you dinner.”

This time, to Rafael’s amusement, there was a significantly longer pause before Sonny declared: “I’ll be there. An hour, an hour and a half, tops. But if I miss something and compromise the case, it’ll be on you, counselor.”

Rafael deadpanned, “Worth it.”

Sonny laughed and then innocently asked, “So… What did you make me?”

Rafael refused to be swayed by the excited curiosity in Sonny’s voice, though it took some doing. He just dismissively said, “Don’t let me keep you Sonny, the sooner you get back to work the sooner you’ll be done. I’ll see you later.”

Sonny laughed again, but then he got serious and whispered, “OK. I’m sorry again, Rafael. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Rafael found it a lot harder to resist Sonny when he was being so sweet: “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sonny barely had time to respond with a playful “Oh?” before Rafael came to his senses.

“Because I’m home already. I’m not going anywhere because I’m home already. Obviously.” Nice save, Rafael.

“ _Obviously,_ ” was Sonny’s cheeky reply. Rafael figured he deserved that.

“Bye, Sonny,” said Rafael, a little too fondly.

“Bye,” came Sonny’s quiet reply.

Rafael shook his head and hung up. He was in for a long wait. And the worst thing? He thought Sonny was worth it.

~ ~ ~

The doorbell rang and Rafael looked up from his notes. He had figured that he could get some work done while he waited, make up for the lost weekend. So, he had pulled out a case file, and he had opened up his laptop, and he was working on his closing argument, and he had lost track of time and it was now quarter to 11 and his living room was a mess and Sonny was downstairs.

Rafael didn’t want to keep him waiting, which was ironic, so he figured he’d open the door first and sort out the mess later, as he reheated the food. He buzzed Sonny in, checked himself in the mirror – ugh, he looked so tired – and, not a minute later, he opened the door.

Sonny stood there, smiling remorsefully, still in the same suit from before, which Rafael understood because it would have taken him even longer to get there if he had gone home to change firs–

Before Rafael even finished that thought, before he even uttered a word, Sonny grabbed his face and kissed him. Sweetly but forcefully, like he had missed Rafael that much even though they had last seen each other – not to mention, they had recklessly made out – that afternoon.

After that enthusiastic greeting, Rafael found it impossible to even pretend to be mad. He just wrapped his arms around Sonny’s slender frame and closed his eyes, content to just kiss Sonny for a while.

It was only after a couple of long minutes that Rafael realized they were both still standing in his doorway, and that his front door was still open. Sonny’s hands on his face were a little too distracting, he supposed.

Rafael pulled away, taking pleasure in the way Sonny’s lips tried to follow his, before Sonny belatedly realized the kiss was over.

Attempting to look stern, Rafael said, “If you think this will get me to forgive you for being 2 hours late… you’re right.” Had he said stern? He meant infatuated.

Sonny grinned and apologized again as he stepped inside: “I’m really sorry, Rafael! The Sarge had me do it, it’s not like I could say n… Are you wearing jeans?”

Rafael chuckled at the non sequitur as he headed for the kitchen. Sonny followed him there like a puppy and muttered, “I didn’t even think you owned jeans.”

Just as Rafael was about to turn around and say something suggestive, Sonny beat him to the punch. And how; Sonny sidled up behind him, copping a feel of his jean-clad ass in the process, and he put his arms around Rafael. The touches were still mostly chaste – which was a good thing, because Rafael was now standing too close to the stove – but the kisses Sonny started placing on the back of Rafael’s neck were decidedly less so.

Rafael turned on the burners to reheat the food; Sonny was still kissing him, but also trying to peek over his shoulder, trying to figure out just what was for dinner. Rafael would be lying if he said he didn’t find that amusing. So, after a few seconds, he opened one of the pots with an exaggerated flourish and a side-eye, revealing a sauce that was in desperate need of a gentle reheating.

Sonny grinned and excitedly said, “Aw man, my mom makes this all the time! It looks great!”

Rafael chose to ignore the mom comment and focused on the polite but untrue compliment: “No it doesn’t. But it will, in a few minutes.”

Sonny just set his chin on Rafael’s shoulder, practically nuzzling him, seemingly content to wait as long as he had to, while Rafael stirred and jostled the pans.

Rafael would have asked Sonny to get out of his way, pull out some plates, make himself useful. Then again, it was late and he was tired and, dammit, he was really enjoying the feeling of Sonny’s body against his.

But, even more than that, Rafael was enjoying how uninhibited Sonny was being. How he wasn’t afraid to touch. How all his nervousness had disappeared as soon as he had realized Rafael shared his feelings. How he let his hands confidently roam all over Rafael’s body. How he acted like Rafael was his now.

Sonny had been like that from the moment they first kissed. Hands everywhere. Rafael had spent an entire weekend getting fondled, basically. Not a bad way to pass the time, he had to admit.

Except, usually, Rafael had to be strong-armed into displays of affection that weren’t a direct precursor to sex. His own touches were always purposeful, intense; he wasn’t exactly single-minded, but he always associated touch with desire.

Not to mention, Rafael’s snappy demeanor, combined with his low threshold for schmaltz, had never really inspired his previous boyfriends to be lovey-dovey. And that had been fine, because Rafael himself had always been reserved when it came to tenderness. He wasn’t exactly cold, but he wasn’t quick to warm up either.

Well, there was a first time for everything. Because Sonny didn’t seem deterred by Rafael’s crankiness; in fact, he seemed spurred by it. He wasn’t keeping his distance; instead, he kept touching Rafael; constantly, naturally, almost absentmindedly. And Rafael, to his own surprise, was fine with that.

Just then, Sonny squeezed him a little, perhaps sensing that Rafael had gotten distracted since he hadn’t so much as stirred the sauce in a few minutes. Rafael snapped out of it, got back to stirring and said nothing, but in his mind he blamed Sonny for almost ruining the sauce; Sonny, whose chest was flush against his back. Sonny, whose spindly arms were idly caressing his torso. Sonny, who was still softly kissing his neck.

Rafael felt the need to respond in kind, and not just stand there and get fondled some more, but, again, being casually affectionate didn’t come very easily to him. He’d get there sooner or later – probably sooner, because Sonny was kind of exceedingly huggable – but, for the time being, he figured he’d start small. So, Rafael turned to Sonny, who was practically an inch away from his face, and briskly kissed him on the cheek.

Sonny gave him that knowing look again, and that wasn’t good; Rafael hadn’t intended to be so obvious. But Sonny also blushed, and that was very good. The sad pout was now a thing of the past, but Rafael would hate to lose the blushing too.

After a perfunctory tasting of the sauce – during which Sonny unsuccessfully and hilariously tried to intercept the wooden spoon – Rafael checked his watch and said, “It’s almost 11:30. Not exactly the best time for dinner.”

Sonny smiled and chirped, “Better late than never!” as he finally stepped back and started noisily going through the cabinets, trying to find the plates.

Rafael side-eyed him again – just where did Sonny get all this energy? Rafael could barely stand – and said, “Speak for yourself. Some of us should already be in bed.”

Sonny, returning with the plates, teased, “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Rafael grumbled, “Only reason I waited up for you in the first place.”

Sonny, having unearthed the wine glasses too, approached Rafael and pulled him closer by the waist. Then he smiled and brazenly declared, “That’s not the only reason.”

Rafael really hated it when Sonny saw right through him – except he kind of liked it – so he just settled for a kiss, not even bothering to deny Sonny’s preposter… totally accurate statement.

Rafael wanted Sonny, of course he did. They had just gotten together; they were having a hard time keeping their hands to themselves long enough to even have dinner. But, in truth, Rafael also wanted to spend time with Sonny, to talk to him, to see him. Ugh. Rafael made a mental note to say something extra-sarcastic later, to make up for all the mushiness.

Changing the subject for his own benefit, Rafael said, “Come on, let’s eat. Finally.”

Sonny eagerly took his place on the table, filled up both their glasses with wine and watched as Rafael brought the food over.

“It smells great,” was Sonny’s next compliment, except this time it was probably true because the food did smell pretty good.

Still, Rafael rolled his eyes and fondly said, “You don’t have to praise me every 5 minutes, Sonny. I put this together in a hurry, back when I thought you were coming at 9 so I wouldn’t have enough time to make something more elaborate.”

Sonny smiled; “I wish I’d gotten here at 9, we’d have had so much more time.” Rafael barely resisted an audible ‘aw’, though he did think it.

Grinning, Sonny continued, “But c’mon, are you kidding? This is awesome! I mean, you could’ve served me a piece of toast and I’d still be happy.”

Rafael raised an eyebrow, and Sonny pointedly said: “I’d still be happy because I’m not fussy and I’ll eat anything,  _obviously.”_

“ _Obviously,_ ” murmured Rafael, but he couldn’t hide his smile, and neither could Sonny. 

~ ~ ~

They were done with dinner a little after midnight. Rafael put everything away – he’d worry about the dishes tomorrow – as he ushered Sonny to the living room, along with the leftover wine.

Just as Rafael was getting to the living room himself, he saw Sonny, still standing, looking at all the folders and the still running laptop and, wow. Rafael had totally forgotten that, until about an hour earlier, he had still been working. An hour with Sonny had felt like a week. In a good way. Rafael was still physically tired, but he felt refreshed. Huh.

Sonny looked at Rafael apologetically and, for the millionth time, repeated, “I’m really sorry!”

Rafael set everything aside, took a seat and patted the cushion next to him. Sonny quickly sat down – a little too close, as always – as Rafael exhaled; “It’s fine. I still had a lot of work to do. Because you kept me from working all weekend.”

That last bit was said with a faux sneer, but Sonny clearly didn’t fall for it. Not if the way he grinned and wrapped himself around Rafael was any indication. Rafael leaned in and practically melted into Sonny’s arms. Because he was tired. That was his excuse, anyway.

Sonny started kissing him, slowly and deeply, and Rafael was certainly not opposed to where the night was going.

Until Sonny started speaking; “My compliments to the chef, dinner was delicious.”

Between kisses, and totally distracted by Sonny’s hand grazing his stubble – he hadn’t shaved, because Sonny said he liked him better that way and, ugh, he was so done for – Rafael muttered, “You already said that, Sonny.”

As it turned out, Sonny wasn’t trying to flatter him again. He was awkwardly trying to start a conversation: “So, um, you do this a lot?”

Rafael actually pulled away a little, raised both eyebrows, and sarcastically said, “Well, I just spent an entire weekend doing this so, yeah, you could say that.”

Sonny chuckled and pulled him back in; “I mean cooking. Do you cook a lot?”

“Sure. I can’t eat takeout all the time,” was Rafael’s purposely naive reply. This was interesting; was Sonny asking him about his hobbies, or was he asking about his dating habits?

Sonny exhaled in adorable frustration – though, impressively, he did not stop pecking at Rafael’s lips – and said, “I mean, do you have people over a lot?”

“Define ‘a lot’.” Rafael was trying to remain expressionless, though he was fully enjoying the way Sonny was now squirming against him.

Sonny pulled back with a frown, but then returned for one more kiss. As Rafael was trying not to laugh, Sonny groaned, “C’mon Rafael, you know what I mean. I… Um… Do you like cooking for your…”

Rafael watched as Sonny got completely tongue-tied, his mind probably tripping over the word ‘boyfriends’. Because using that word would mean that Sonny was including himself in that category. And that would be… accurate, supplied Rafael’s brain. Huh.

Still struggling to keep a straight face, but also wanting to ease Sonny’s discomfort, Rafael casually said, “Are we talking exes already? It’s only been a week.”

“I don’t want to hear about your exes,” Sonny grouched, as a small pout formed on his lips.

Rafael did laugh this time. He leaned in, kissed away that pout, and settled into Sonny’s arms again. He then whispered, “So what  _do_ you want to hear about?”

Sonny, now awkwardly playing with the hairs on the back of Rafael’s neck, quietly replied: “About you. I don’t know. Your past. Your life. What you like. I mean, I’ll find out for myself over time, I just… I don’t know.”

Rafael found all the babbling and the fidgeting extremely endearing. And he did like the sound of ‘over time’ a little too much. Apparently Rafael wasn’t the only one having long-term thoughts, and wasn’t that something? And by ‘something’, of course, Rafael meant ‘totally insane’. Also, ‘kind of great’.

Not to mention, Rafael thought it was interesting that Sonny had hesitated to call himself Rafael’s ‘boyfriend’ and yet he had just sprouted off ‘over time’ like it was a given.

Thinking about it, Rafael could understand Sonny’s curiosity. They really hadn’t talked about their previous relationships at all. Which made sense because, again, it had only been a week. Plus, Rafael wasn’t the most forthcoming person; unlike Sonny, as it was rapidly becoming clear.

But, in all honesty, Rafael’s natural cageyness was currently outweighed by his own curiosity about Sonny’s romantic past. Did Sonny date around? What did he like? Rafael remembered something Liv had told him in passing; Bayard Ellis had worked with the squad on a recent case and Sonny had, apparently, shown himself to be quite the adoring fan. Was Sonny into brilliant, assertive, distinguished – old, OK, old – lawyers? Or was Rafael being totally ridiculous? Or both?

At any rate, Sonny was still squirming, and he was looking somewhere above Rafael’s right shoulder, clearly unable to make eye contact. Rafael wanted to put him out of his misery, plus he figured that he had to give a little to take a little, so he reluctantly started sharing.

“Well, I do like to cook for the people I care abou– ”

Dammit.

Sonny’s fidgeting came to a grinding halt and his eyes shot up. But, to his credit, he displayed tremendous restraint – not to mention a knack for self-preservation – and did not say a single word. No response, no teasing, no nothing. Rafael appreciated that. He also appreciated the way Sonny’s eyes lit up, even as he was clearly trying not to react, probably to spare Rafael the embarrassment.

Rafael persevered. Kind of; “I do like cooking for people,” – fine, so Rafael chickened out and Sonny was literally biting his lips in an attempt not to smile – “but I can’t say that I do it often. Or, I haven’t in a while. I, uh… I guess I haven’t really felt like it in some time.

“I’ve mostly had casual relationships, not worth the effort. And whenever I’ve had a more long-term relationship it’s usually been with men who preferred the fancy restaurants and the meals being prepared by actual chefs, so. Not a lot of opportunities to do this.”

Sonny, his arms still around Rafael, asked, “And you don’t want that too? The fancy dinners, and all? You don’t prefer that?”

Rafael, who hadn’t really made a lot of eye contact during his little speech either, turned his head and looked at Sonny; Sonny, who was staring inquisitively. Rafael didn’t want to let this thought linger.

“No,” he said. Just ‘no’ and he kissed the uncertainty right off of Sonny’s face.

Sonny really liked that answer, if the intensity of his kiss was anything to go by. Still, he joked, “Um, that’s great but, I gotta say, I can’t really cook so we might have to try out some of those restaurants; maybe not the fanciest ones but, you know, you can’t shoulder the burden of feeding me all on your own, it’s a pretty big undertaking.”

Rafael chuckled but read between the lines; Sonny was looking for something a little more specific than a simple ‘no’.

So Rafael gave it to him: “We will. Look, I’ve dated the architects, the doctors, the politicians and so on. A lot of the time, though not always, I did it because I felt that’s what was expected of me.

“And I do like that stuff. The fancy stuff. Obviously. Maybe more than most people. But I like this better.”

Sonny’s eyes lit up again. It was clear that he had read between the lines too; Rafael… liked this. Better. Spending a nice evening at home with someone he cared about. With Sonny. God, he was getting old.

But he wasn’t old yet; so, Rafael started kissing Sonny again, except this time it was with the express intention of getting frisky. He started caressing Sonny’s chest, intending to go all the way down to the waistband. He figured he’d save his questions about Sonny’s past for another night, because it was almost a quarter to one and Rafael really did have to sleep at some point.

Unfortunately for Rafael’s libido – not to mention his beauty sleep – now that Sonny was back to his cheerful self, he apparently had more questions.

At least he had the decency to pose them in-between kisses: “So, what’s the gossip? You ever dated any of the other ADAs? Maybe from the other boroughs? Or a defense attorney? Ever had a conflict of interest?”

Change of plans; Rafael saw an opening.

But first, he couldn’t resist taking a potshot: “No, I try not to mix business with pleasure. I only make exceptions for mouthy cops with moustaches.”

Sonny cracked up, and Rafael thought he’d seize the opportunity to catch him off guard: “But why do you ask? Are you into that sort of thing?”

Sonny, still laughing, quipped, “What, like, do I like to raise objections?”

Rafael rolled his eyes and scoffed and made an array of disapproving facial expressions, barely stopping short of a facepalm.

Sonny, laughing even harder, asked, “Wait, what do you mean? Am I into what?”

Rafael sat back a little and probingly said, “Counselors.”

Sonny was looking at him in confusion; Rafael had to be more direct: “What I’m asking,  _Sonny,_ is if you have a type.”

Sonny’s eyebrows jumped, but he recovered quickly. Too quickly.

All-too-innocently, Sonny replied, “Oh! Nah… Well, yes. But you got this all wrong; it’s not the counselors I’m into, it’s the verbal abuse.”

Rafael side-eyed Sonny. Hard. “That can be arranged,” he snapped.

Sonny grinned, still a little too innocently, and said, “I hadn’t even thought about it. I mean, sure, I admire you guys, professionally, but c’mon, most of these big shots wouldn’t look twice at me. I still can’t believe  _you_ did.”

Rafael narrowed his eyes. Sonny was now pouting. No; he was fake-pouting. He wasn’t feeling insecure; Sonny was messing with him.

“There’s no accounting for taste,” deadpanned Rafael right before Sonny’s pout turned into another grin.

Sonny pulled him closer again and started tugging at his shirt.  _Oh no you don’t,_ thought Rafael. They had started the conversation, and they’d finish it, sleep – and other activities – be damned: “So, counselors aren’t your type. Who is? What kind of people have you dated?”

Sonny, his fingers still holding Rafael’s polo shirt, twisting the fabric, said, “I dated a few cops, some I wasn’t supposed to. From my own precincts, you know? Guys, mostly, but some girls too.”

Sonny paused for a second; Rafael just smiled. He had suspected as much, that’s why he hadn’t used the word ‘guys’ and had asked about ‘people’, instead. He had seen Sonny noticing women sometimes, before they had gotten closer, back in the moustache days. Even then, Rafael remembered feeling disappointed for no reason that he would openly acknowledge. Fortunately, Sonny had been kind of terrible at concealing his interest in Rafael, so that disappointment had been short-lived.

Sonny, clearly pleased by this non-reaction, continued: “But I was too busy with night school to date anybody for real, you know? Until… Um.”

Rafael smirked, thinking that Sonny was about to get flustered again. But he didn’t; nor did he chicken out, not like Rafael had.

Sonny just looked right at Rafael and said, “Until this. Until you.”

Rafael blinked. He raised an eyebrow and asked: “For real, huh?”

Sonny nodded, unwavering.

Rafael was impressed. And a little giddy, though he hid it well – OK, not  _that_ well. Still, he refused to chicken out this time; he looked back at Sonny and, without much hesitation, said: “That’s a good way of putting it.”

Sonny smiled happily, sincerely. But then his smile turned cocky, which was clearly a bad sign: “So, uh, to answer your question, most of the time I just casually dated other students at Fordham; I was pretty popular, actually; everybody thought I was a catch. It sucks that I graduated, I’ll be missing out on a lot of action.”

Had Rafael said ‘impressed’? He meant annoyed.

“And, speaking of types, I hadn’t even dated an older guy before, not like you,” added Sonny, bright eyes practically daring him to react.

A dig at Rafael’s age? Really?

With an unconvincing sneer, Rafael replied: “Well, there’s a first time for everything, Sonny. I’d never dated anybody from Staten Island before, either. I’ll be sure to try it again next time.”

Sonny laughed; apparently he was now totally immune to Rafael’s sarcastic remarks. Huh. Rafael should have found that troubling – sneering was his greatest power, after all – but, as a matter of fact, he loved it. He loved that Sonny was back to his old self. Back to that cocky, confident guy who didn’t let anything get to him. Back to that guy who responded to sass with sass.

Luckily, Sonny was also a guy who responded to sass with fondling; because, just then, he finally,  _finally,_ moved closer, and slowly ran his hands up Rafael’s thighs. 

Sonny did have one last question, but Rafael allowed it because it came in the form of a tease and a whisper: “Yeah? Are you saying that I’m your type?”

Rafael started unbuttoning Sonny’s shirt as he fondly lied; “Not even close.”

~ ~ ~

It was a few minutes later when Rafael found himself flat on the couch, with Sonny on top of him, as always. Both of their shirts had somehow come off – Sonny’s doing, no doubt – and Sonny was licking his neck and breathing heavily and grinding against him. Rafael’s hands, having a mind of their own, had somehow slipped underneath Sonny’s waistband.

Except Rafael had seemingly forgotten how slacks worked; he was actually trying to pull down Sonny’s pants without unbuttoning them first. After a few seconds of unsuccessful tugging, Sonny smirked and pulled back a little; Rafael assumed he’d just undo his pants and get on top of him again, but Sonny got all the way up and grabbed Rafael’s hand, in an effort to get him to stand.

Rafael resisted the pull, however feebly: “Sonny, it’s one thirty. I’m not moving from this couch. Come back down.”

Sonny chuckled, but he didn’t let go of Rafael’s hand. He just bent down, rubbed his cheek against Rafael’s and, with his lips right next to Rafael’s ear, he whispered: “No way. I wanna see your bedroom.”

Well. Rafael could hardly deny that request. He had often imagined Sonny in his bed, after all; naked and writhing and thrusting and… “OK, OK, let’s go.”

Rafael found the strength to get up and led Sonny to the bedroom, though his own tiredness – and Sonny’s wandering hands – made the trip a little longer than it should have been.

Rafael opened the door, turned on the lights, and sarcastically said, “Ta-da! Now take your pants off. And mine, while you’re at it.”

An amused Sonny complied, but very slowly; he unbuttoned Rafael’s jeans, stuck his hand inside and squeezed. He then started kissing Rafael’s neck, idly, like he had all the time in the world. It was only after about two minutes of heavy petting that Rafael realized that Sonny was stalling, because he was trying to get a good look at the room.

The worst part? He only realized it because Sonny attempted to compliment the interior design; “I love the curt–”

But, after almost two and a half hours of conversation, Rafael was done talking. He grabbed Sonny by the forearms, turned their bodies until the back of Sonny’s knees hit the bed, and then he pushed. Sonny landed with a thud and a chuckle, but at least he got with the program, slithering out of his pants – and, yes, he did look pretty fantastic against Rafael’s wine-red sheets, pale skin in perfect contrast with the dark décor.

Rafael pulled down his own jeans, finally standing naked, as he stepped closer; he ran his fingers up and down Sonny’s legs, and then he pushed Sonny’s thighs apart. Sonny, like putty in Rafael’s hands, just went with it, licking his lips and spreading wide as he looked up. Rafael took him by the hips, pulling hard, bringing him even closer, and then he lowered himself on Sonny’s body.

Sonny immediately enveloped Rafael and started caressing his shoulders; started kissing his neck, his jaw, his lips. Rafael, still clutching at Sonny’s hip with one hand, slipped an arm under Sonny and lifted him a little, until they were flush against each other, until no space separated them. Their bodies were completely connected and Sonny moaned softly every time Rafael moved.

Rafael was having a hard time focusing; he was kissing Sonny, he was grinding, pressing downwards, and Sonny was so hard underneath him, and Sonny’s hands were moving lower, down to Rafael’s sides, to his hips, to his ass, holding him tight, always moving.

After a few hazy minutes, Rafael pulled away slightly and whispered, “What do you want to do?”

Sonny just grinned and said, “Whatever you want, as long as it’s on this bed. I  _love_ this bed. It’s so big.”

Rafael chuckled; had Sonny’s bed been smaller? He never even noticed. He had barely noticed there was a bed at all. Actually, Rafael was a little offended that Sonny was still able to have coherent thoughts about furniture.

But that was only until Sonny finished his thought: “I’ve been thinking about this all day. You and me on a king-size bed.”

Oh. That explained it.

Rafael smirked and all-too-generously said, “Since it’s your first time on the bed, it’s your call.” As if this wasn’t the definition of a win-win situation, as Rafael and Sonny had both been pleased to discover over their long weekend.

Sonny just grinned even harder and cheerfully said, “OK then!” before he somehow flipped Rafael over in about 1 second flat. Rafael would have protested, but his mouth was busy.

Sonny kissed him deeply, and then he slid lower, his lips leisurely caressing Rafael’s neck, his chest, his belly. Sonny’s body never left Rafael’s, not for a second, not until he finally knelt by the side of the bed, between Rafael’s legs. Rafael distractedly thought that he should probably get a California king, because Sonny was so damn tall, and that was the last coherent thought he remembered having.

Because it was at that point that Sonny, licking his lips, always licking his lips, bent down and took Rafael in his mouth. Rafael concentrated on trying not to speak. He didn’t know what he might say; not with Sonny looking up at him like that.

Rafael hadn’t gotten used to it yet; he got so turned on he couldn’t actually figure out if Sonny was that good with his mouth or if Rafael just wanted him that bad. He  _had_ spent months staring at those lips, after all; those pretty, full, pink lips. 

Those lips that were now wrapped around him, gently grazing against him, kissing and sucking, slow at first, and then deep. Rafael just moaned and breathed heavily, his hands grasping at the sheets. He couldn’t get his body to do anything else; all he could muster were a few involuntary thrusts that Sonny kept at bay with a firm hand across his hips.

Sonny picked up the pace as he brought his other hand further down. He reached with his fingers, low, rubbing a little, and he looked up, Rafael still in his mouth; Sonny’s tongue darted, licking him gently, as Rafael impatiently nodded. Another thing Rafael had learned over the weekend was that Sonny loved preparing him, and there was nothing wrong with Sonny doing all the work. Not when it was so late and Rafael was so gone.

Sonny pointed at the nightstand and Rafael nodded again, not without some effort, confirming that Sonny would find everything he needed in there. Sonny leaned over him to reach for the drawer, and Rafael sneaked a kiss on his chest. Sonny beamed at him knowingly before getting back on his knees. Rafael instantly regretted that little show of affection; except he didn’t, not at all.

After a few minutes of Sonny’s extremely diligent and very pleasurable efforts – a few minutes during which Rafael only managed to ineffectually paw at Sonny’s face – Rafael was ready. He tugged at Sonny’s hair, pulling him off and guiding him back up for a kiss.

Sonny followed obediently; he lazily spread his body on top of Rafael, gangly arms and long legs and pointy elbows everywhere, covering every inch of him. A few kisses later, Sonny, still pecking at Rafael’s lips, whispered, “You want me to stay on top?”

“Might as well. It’s not like I can move,” was Rafael matter-of-fact response.

Sonny laughed and Rafael felt the vibrations go through his body as well. Rafael refused to analyze that any further; he refused to acknowledge that he didn’t even need the vibrations to feel Sonny’s laughter deep in his chest. He–

Sonny, blissfully unaware of the sentimentality that had overtaken Rafael, and more consumed with the practicalities of the matter on hand, put on a condom and started caressing Rafael’s thighs, except this time it was with a purpose. With gentle hands, Sonny got him to move his legs, to open up. Then, Sonny nestled himself between Rafael’s thighs and pushed in.

Rafael had a hard time keeping his eyes open, but he didn’t want to miss a thing – also, apparently, he was now quoting Aerosmith songs in his head. He didn’t want to miss the look on Sonny’s face as he pressed inside; biting his lips, eyes locked on Rafael’s, looking so focused, so intense, so dazed, so worked up, so turned on. Rafael didn’t think he’d ever get used to that look.

But then, there was also the look on Sonny’s face the first time Rafael had been inside him – and the second time, and every time, hopefully. Sonny, gasping, staring at him wide-eyed, mouth hanging open, looking thunderstruck, pulling him in, even deeper. Rafael would have liked another glimpse at that face too, but he was way too tired to actually put in the effort. There was always the next night.

For the time being, Rafael was more than happy to feel Sonny on him, in him. Sonny moved slowly at first, agonizingly so, until Rafael was ready for more – and the agony was all Sonny’s, because Rafael loved it, loved those quiet moments before they really got going.

After a little while, it was clear that Sonny couldn’t wait any longer. And yet, he did; he waited until Rafael grabbed him by the hips and drew him closer, drew him deeper – because the quiet moments were great, but Rafael needed more. Sonny groaned and finally started thrusting in earnest.

Rafael tried to move with him, to help set the pace, but he quickly gave up. Nothing would feel as good as Sonny did, anyway; his hips driving deep into Rafael, his tongue licking at Rafael’s mouth, his hand gripping Rafael’s hip so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Frankly, Rafael would have been content to just sit back and take it; except he couldn’t, because he wanted to touch. He wanted to touch Sonny. He wanted to touch Sonny everywhere. So he did.

As he was running his hands all over Sonny’s body, Rafael absentmindedly thought that Sonny was strong, stronger than he looked. Rafael could feel it, even as he was clutching at Sonny’s slender shoulders, as he was grazing Sonny’s rib cage, as he was squeezing Sonny’s narrow hips with his thighs.

It wasn’t long until Sonny’s thrusts started coming quicker and deeper, and Rafael began moving his hips to the same rhythm. Sonny was still trying to kiss him but Rafael was too far gone to kiss back; Sonny had to settle for just a brush of his lips as he kept pushing, both their breaths coming heavier and heavier.

Rafael was close; he reached down to touch himself, but Sonny stopped him. That was his job, apparently, along with everything else. So, holding himself up on one arm, Sonny reached down, took hold of Rafael and then started stroking him firmly, as he kept thrusting, harder and harder.

Rafael, rapidly losing it, placed both of his hands on Sonny’s face and started petting his soft cheeks, his swollen lips. Sonny was blushing again, but this time it was with arousal. Rafael liked this shade the most.

Sonny kissed him and started pushing deeper, and longer; his hand started moving faster, and he looked so out of it, and so overwhelmed, and he was so hard, and he felt so good, and Rafael couldn’t take it anymore. His body jolted, then stilled, and then Rafael started gyrating aimlessly, hips going up and down, moaning, riding it out. Sonny never let go of him, never stopped moving, never stopped kissing him. Not until Rafael was done.

When Rafael came to, several moments later, he found Sonny flat against him again, playing with the mess on his belly, tracing his ribs with tender fingers. He looked so pleased; almost like he’d have no problem if they stopped right now, while he was still hard, still inside Rafael.

But Rafael  _would_ have a huge problem with that; he wanted to see Sonny let go, he wanted to feel him. He tugged at Sonny’s hair again, kissed him deeply, and then said, “Come on, Sonny, before I fall asleep.”

Sonny laughed but immediately resumed his movements. He made a few shallow thrusts at first, trying to find a rhythm again; then, he held himself up, on both arms this time, and his hips started pushing faster. It wasn’t long until Sonny started practically pounding Rafael.

Rafael was now moaning obscenely, louder with each thrust – and the louder he moaned, the harder Sony pushed. Rafael found himself wishing he was 20 years younger, just so he could have another go. But, since that wasn’t going to happen, Rafael settled for a few stolen kisses and a few gentle touches, as he caressed Sonny’s chest, his collarbone, his neck.

Sonny was almost there; Rafael encouraged him with his hips, until he was distracted by a vein throbbing on Sonny’s flushed neck. As Sonny was straining with effort, thrusting hard, Rafael pulled him down and kissed that spot, licked that vein, sucked on his pulse. Sonny’s hips jerked abruptly and his hands gave way as he fell on Rafael’s chest, groaning. He grabbed Rafael’s hips, squeezed tight, and then he gasped, and kept gasping, and shuddering, until he was spent.

This time, Sonny didn’t even try to move away afterwards, except to dispose of the condom and to perform a cursory clean-up on the both of them; he quickly returned to the bed and stayed where he was, just where Rafael liked him. Close.

After a few minutes of just lying there, and after their breathing had evened out, Rafael wearily glanced at his alarm clock and inwardly groaned. He had no idea how he’d manage to wake up the next morning. He would say he’d reconsider these weeknight dates, but he’d be lying because Sonny was totally worth the dark circles.

Sonny’s eyes followed Rafael’s and his eyes widened; he actually jumped up, or he tried to, until Rafael pulled him back down.

Chuckling and rubbing Rafael’s hand, Sonny said, “C’mon, I just need a second to get my pants, so I can set the alarm on my phone. I have to get home before I get to work in the morning, I have to pick up some stuff I got for my sister, for the baby, she’ll come by the precinct later to get them. Is it OK if I set the alarm for 5:30? I swear I’ll turn it off immediately, you probably won’t even hear it!”

Rafael blinked. He was amazed by the fact Sonny still had the energy to say so much. But Rafael was also amazed by something else; Sonny was asking if it was OK to set the alarm for the ungodly hour of 5:30 in the A.M. – and Rafael would totally hear it, by the way, he was a light sleeper – but he seemed to take it for granted that it was OK to stay over on a weeknight.

That said, it  _was_ entirely possible that Rafael’s death grip had clued Sonny in on that. So, Rafael let go a little – but only a little, and begrudgingly at that – and allowed Sonny to get up and retrieve his pants. 

Enjoying the view – the view being Sonny, bent over and rifling through his pants pockets – Rafael asked, “Are you saying you’re going to sneak out in the middle of the night?”

Where had that come from? Was Rafael saying that he actually wanted to wake up at the crack of dawn? To do what, see Sonny out?

“Why? You wanna kiss me goodbye?” Sonny teased as he came back to bed and, OK, yeah, he was probably onto something.

Rafael pulled him down and snapped,  _“Goodnight,_ Sonny.”

Sonny grinned, gave Rafael a soft kiss and whispered, “I’ll wake you up. Goodnight.”

Rafael rolled his eyes and pulled him even closer, a little embarrassed but also pleased that Sonny had seen right through him again. Sonny shifted a little, to make himself comfortable, ending up half on top of Rafael and half on his side; he drifted off to sleep within minutes.

Rafael could only wish he were that lucky; he supposed that’s how Sonny had managed to combine law school and a fulltime job as an SVU detective. Falling asleep at the drop of a hat had never been one of Rafael’ skills; he knew it would take him a while.

But Rafael didn’t mind, not with Sonny in his arms. He knew that it was still early days for their ‘thing’ and his excitement was probably clouding his judgment, or maybe it was Sonny’s smitten little looks; still, Rafael kind of had a good feeling about it.

And, yeah, he knew was being sappy again, but it was the wee small hours of the morning and he was still blissed out from before and, whatever, Rafael should cut himself some slack already. It’s not like he was watching Sonny sleep, or anything. Not on purpose, anyway.

On an unrelated note, Sonny did look good in Rafael’s arms, and he felt even better. He felt so warm and so solid and so soft and so bony, and his elbow was poking Rafael in the ribs a little, and he was heavier than he looked, and he had thrown one of his long legs over Rafael’s knees, effectively trapping him, and Rafael should really be feeling antsy but all he could feel was conten–

OK, happy, Rafael felt happy, and he hadn’t so much as thought of that word in years.

This whole thing, this whole friendship-turned-relationship, had been about helping Sonny, at least at first – until Rafael had helped himself  _to_ Sonny, of course. It had all been about Sonny getting his groove back, in a way. 

But Rafael was now realizing that Sonny had helped him as well. Sonny, with his carefree smiles and his silly jokes and his big mouth, had been the source of endless enjoyment for Rafael over the last 4 months, and even before that.

Sonny had given him a reason to excitedly visit the precinct, to gleefully come up with jibes on the way there, to wear even nicer suits, to tease and prod until he could get those dimples to appear. Sonny had made Rafael’s life fun again, after a long time. And, now that they were together, ‘fun’ had taken on a whole new meaning.

As Rafael was falling asleep, he thought of the past. He thought of the old Rafael; how, at the first sign of happiness, he would be getting worried, and questioning everything, and asking himself if he even deserved it.

This Rafael? Sonny’s Rafael? He wasn’t worried about a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: I now regret not titling the first fic 'How Sonny Got His Groove Back'.
> 
> Secondly, the first part of this story is Barba-centric. It gives a little more insight into him, into his own feelings about himself and about Sonny, and it shows what he was doing in those in-between moments, when he wasn't with Sonny. It might even, hopefully, explain some of his reactions that may have seemed a bit over the top. 
> 
> The second part of the story, also seen through Rafael's eyes, is the dinner that Sonny was so looking forward to. And I suppose that's where this fic came from; I was also looking forward to that dinner, so I figured I'd write it. 
> 
> But also, there were a few comments in the first story about Rafael's reactions being a little too dramatic, and that got me thinking; I had looked at the transfer incident from Sonny's perspective, almost exclusively. Rafael's intense reaction came out of nowhere in the story because Sonny himself had been flabbergasted to see it. 
> 
> Thinking about that, and thinking about the incident from Rafael's perspective, gave me more inspiration. I realized I hadn't set up the outburst as well as I could have; maybe I took the easy way out, relying on the fact the fic was Sonny-centric and Sonny had no way of knowing Rafael's feelings. This story hopefully fixes that, since it's all about Rafael. With the added bonus of his snark, of course.
> 
> That's why I really appreciated getting those comments, and also why I remain very open to concrit. Without it, maybe this story would never have been written.
> 
> Lastly, I don't even know. I hope you enjoy the ~43K words of Barisi that my addled brain has produced. I know I enjoyed writing them. And this time I won't even pretend I'm not going to write more. No promises, but it appears that this pairing inspires me to a disturbing degree. Maybe I'll try something short and sweet next time. Or short and angsty. Or short and anything, hopefully. Let's see.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read and/or will read these stories; the Barisi fandom is tiny but lovely and I'm glad this is the first pairing I've ever written for, I actually feel lucky. Thanks for the comments, the kudos, the likes, the views, everything <3


End file.
